


trust 2.0

by anathebookworm



Category: Dark Pictures Anthology, Hidden Agenda (Video Game 2017), Man of Medan, The Dark Pictures: Man of Medan (Video Game), Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Matt is sad, Rescue Missions, Soft Boys, Strong girls, all survivors from all games are together, and then there’s josh and conrad who are assholes, ashley is apparently susan pevensie, brad and junior are attracted to each other but too busy to act on their feelings, btw people die here, but assholes with a heart, but this isn't a babyfic, conrad and fliss are endgame and I don't care what you say, finn and marney have a complicated relationship, for some characters at least, i researched so much useless trivia i want to gouge my own eyes out, it’s slightly au but still, julia and alex are kind of too busy to plan their wedding, julia is worried and is a great sister, junior is sad too, okay I warned you go ahead if you don’t mind, olson is totally out of it and josh relates to it, please don’t read if you haven’t finished all games, sam and mike are elena and nathan drake now, seriously there are spoilers all the time, survivors ensemble, there are also babies, why are you still reading my long ass tags just start chapter one already, you are going to need to wait if you’re here for the wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-05 05:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathebookworm/pseuds/anathebookworm
Summary: Her life was a mess, but Becky Marney still couldn’t complain about it. She lost her promising job and became a private detective to pay the bills, but she married a man she loved deeply—you can’t have everything, that’s what they say. She could also be pregnant and totally freaking out about it, but hey, it could’ve been worse.Well.That was what she thought until a bunch of college-aged kids arrived on her doorstep, begging for help to uncover the roots of *supposedly* supernatural events that sincerely made no sense to her practical mind.But wait, wasn’t there another story of a group of survivors that went through very traumatic events but that could help them all prove that the supernatural was, in fact, very real?And what was this rumor about Bob Washington’s son being alive?also known as “the fic where everyone is kicking supernatural butt together.”





	1. PART 1—Finn, 2017

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [trust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12563312) by [anathebookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathebookworm/pseuds/anathebookworm). 

> Hi, well, this was always meant to be an Until Dawn crossover, I just never had any solid ideas on where to go with it. Apparently now I do! In fact, it’s probably my most ambitious project ever! Welcome to my Supermassive Games mega crossover/ensemble wheeee *cue for the Avengers theme to start playing in the background.
> 
> This is going to cover events from Hidden Agenda, Until Dawn and Man of Medan. However, everything here is happening post-games (it starts where Hidden Agenda ends and jumps a couple of years to after Man of Medan ends.) I hope you find this as exciting to read as it was for me to write, because boy, this was wild. 
> 
> Oh, and yeah, each part of the story is going to be from a different POV, though Marney is probably going to be featured more often since she’s the one connecting all stories together. Well, that’s it!
> 
> Ohhhh, the original version of this with just the first chapter and Hidden Agenda being featured is still available as its own fic if you’re curious.

_ I have to go alone. _

alone

alone

alone

It echoed in his mind, spiraling inside a brain that had been sober for far too long. It was as real as the rain falling on his face, dripping from his nose and chin and drenching his clothes.

alone

She was going alone.

She couldn’t go alone.

She didn’t know Adam the way he did, didn’t understand Adam the way he did. No. He couldn’t let Adam do anything—it was just—he couldn’t. She trusted him, she let him go—

trusted him

trusted him

how long had it been since somebody actually trusted him?

She couldn’t go alone.

He shook the rain from his face, rubbed his forehead and nose and eyes with the back of his hand. She couldn’t go alone. Which meant he needed to go too. He needed to get inside, finish this mess for good.

five years

five years

adam’s fault

it was all adam’s fault

He couldn’t take much more of this. He couldn’t. Couldn’t.

He stopped thinking—tried to stop thinking, his thoughts had been a jumbled mess since his trial—and just opened the door. Took a few careful steps. It was still Adam, he still needed to be careful. With Adam, you never knew what was waiting for you in a small corner. Just turn on the lights, and there’d be a big boom. Anything could happen. Anything.

But he didn’t want to think about that right now, he needed to focus for a moment. He needed to focus. Keep his thoughts straight. Mind sharp. Eyes sharper.

He didn’t need to search for her—Adam, too—for too long. No. He could hear them, sharp as a knife, as his mind, as his eyes.

“Simon, you’ve gotten what you wanted! Haven’t you? Haven’t you?”

She was angry. She was always angry, always willing to punch someone or hurt something. Not trigger-happy, though. He still remembered how her partner wanted to shoot him when he was arrested—but not her. Not Marney. She wasn’t trigger-happy.

“You really don’t know what I want,” Adam shot back at Marney, his voice cold. Always cold. Too dead.

He frowned, waiting for whatever she’d answer.

“You want revenge on the people who hurt you,” she finally said. Angry. But calmer than before. Still not sounding like she was going to shoot. He didn’t know how that made him feel. It was Adam. It was her. It was his best friend. It was the woman who trusted him. But Marney interrupted his thoughts by continuing, “But Johnny? Simon, he was never supposed to go down for this. You know he never deserved this. You know.”

He thought that Adam said something after that.

we wanted a future, he deserved a future, I deserved a future

you took this future from us

But he didn’t care.

He was still hearing her words, echoing again.

alone

johnny didn’t deserve this

wasn’t supposed to go down for this

do it

DO IT

And so he acted.

He had a gun hidden with him, couldn’t go around happily looking for Adam without a gun. He didn’t think when he pointed it to his once upon a time best friend. He didn’t need to think. He needed to aim.

And he was damn good at that.

He did take a minute to enjoy the surprised looks both Adam and Marney gave him, though. He was allowed to that. Hadn’t been allowed to do so many things, that he was going to do whatever he can.

she trusted him

he could be useful

get adam

gave him on a silver platter

“Didn’t realize I sent so many invitations to this little party,” Adam finally drawled, looking around without seeing anything. He thought that now he could understand why everyone always said that Adam had a “dead fish” kind of stare.

“Shut up,” he hissed. His hands didn’t shake. He wouldn’t hesitate. Adam betrayed him. Marney trusted him. Adam said he would help, that he would get him out of the death row. Adam lied. Marney trusted him. She let him go. “Shut up! I’ll off you right now if you don’t!”

“Will you? I don’t think so. Not after everything we’ve been through together. No, you wouldn’t. Don’t you remember who was there to listen to poor little Finn crying after Rominski had his fun time? Oh, who was there to just listen while you cried that you’d make them pay, hurt them. Only you never had the guts to do what you should. You couldn’t do it then, and you can’t do it now.”

no

no

he was a kid

of course he’d cry

he still wanted to cry

he still wanted to hurt people

He did have what it took to hurt those who deserved to be hurt.

He shot.

He shot Adam.

On the shoulder.

Adam fell, groaned.

And then

then

then

Adam shot Marney.

And Marney fell too.

The gun slipped from his fingers when his brain shifted its focus. It was instinct. It had to be. He was never the one to catch people when they fall. But he still let the gun drop to somehow twist his arms around Marney, make sure her head didn’t hit the floor. Make sure it didn’t hurt too much.

blood

there was blood

just like—

like when he was a kid, and lemay was there to hurt him, hurt everyone

so much blood

he wasn’t used to it anymore, not after five years

five  _ tears _

five

five

It was autopilot after that. His body remembered what to do, and so he pressed his hands on her stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.  _ Keep the pressure _ , he’d had heard.  _ Keep making pressure and it’ll help. _

Around them, he saw Marney’s team of happy cops dragging Adam around, yelling, handcuffing Adam. Taking him away.

Marney kept looking at him with big eyes, big big big eyes. Her mouth opened and closed. Opened and closed. He tried getting his ear closer to her mouth so he could hear whatever she wanted to say, but there was nothing.

She passed out.

He knew this.

Knew she just passed out. She’d wake up soon.

But he still panicked when they dragged him away, grabbed her and dragged her away too.

And everything was blank.

He heard things from the cops around him. But it didn’t matter, didn’t actually make sense to his crazy brain.

_ guy’s crazy _

_ shot hillary _

_ you mean he caught the real trapper? _

_ and marney _

_ innocent _

_ maybe not _

_ maybe just fucking him _

it didn’t matter

didn’t

It was all autopilot. He didn’t mind being dragged around, his body didn’t even feel it. At least, not until they put him in front of a lot of hungry reporters, bombarding him with questions.

All he said, repeated, is “can I go now, can I go now.”

* * *

His brain must be much less muddled and much less on autopilot, because a few days later, when he watched the news again, he smiled.

Smiled.

Judge Vanstone, the man who sent him to die—die a liar, no, he didn’t want to die a liar—said yet again what thought of Marney.

“Becky Marney saved my life. She should get a goddamn medal as far as I’m concerned.”

Yes. Yes, she should. He’d like that. She saved his life, too. He didn’t have to die anymore. Not right now, at least. He liked to think he still had a few years ahead of him.

A future.

Adam was wrong, in the end. He didn’t understand the world at all. He said Marney took their future from them, their only chance of having a future—

But—

She gave him his future back. Proved to everyone he wasn’t a killer.

He used to hear how people around said she made things disappear, but they were wrong too. She gave things to people.

He trusted her.

* * *

The cops waited until she was out of the hospital to officially allow him to go. Free, free again. At least until he did something that would actually put him in jail, though.

jail

not death row

never again

never

But the cops, crazy folks that they were, not only just let him go. They offered him a public “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t believe most of them  _ were  _ sorry, but she smiled and nodded and looked proud.

So he also smiled and nodded and tried to look proud.

* * *

“Mr. Finn,” someone greeted him while he was sitting in a bar, staring at the bottle the barman just offered him. Something about being on the TV and being innocent. But when the voice greeted him, he looked up.

It was Becky Marney.

“Hello.” He nodded, raising his bottle in greeting. She just snorted.

“Once upon a time, I’ve had to deal with the feeling of having sent someone to the death row. Now...now it’s your turn. I know this makes sleeping harder, and it makes all sorts of thoughts run through our minds. So, I...uh, how are you feeling?”

It was hard to sleep, hard to eat, hard to breathe.

But he was surprised that she was bringing this up.

“I can’t wait for them to just kill him and be done with it,” he said, compelled to be honest. She gasped, her eyes going wide. He didn’t know why she reacted like that, but he felt the needs to elaborate more what he meant. “I’m not sure if Miss Graves ever brought this up—”

“Felicity,” she interrupted. He nodded, though the way she said the other woman’s name made him feel...something.

It couldn’t be jealousy—

—it couldn’t.

Could it?

“Yes,” he continued anyway, ignoring whatever feelings were close to the surface. “Yes, I’m not sure if Felicity ever brought this up, but Adam, he...I was fine after we left Las Palmas. I was high, sure. Would probably still be now. But he found me online and kept...I don’t know. He just wanted to talk about all that ancient shit. I didn’t want to think about that again. I didn’t need that in my life again. I was fine. But he dragged me into this. So yes, I am glad he’s going to be put down.”

“Put down? Like some sort of animal?”

“I think you can agree with me that this description does fit Adam.”

Marney sighed, running a hand up and down her forehead. Standing this close to her, he could see the sweat there. He could see the bags under her eyes. The lines around her lips.

Then she did something—

Unexpected.

To say the least.

She touched his shoulder, pretty much squeezed it in what he recognized as a gesture of comfort. He didn’t remember when was the last time someone actually tried to comfort him, though.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she said, her hand lingering on his shoulder. “I...I did mean what I said before—you didn’t deserve any of it. And I’m...I’m sorry that I didn’t get Simon...Adam, whatever, when I should. I’m...I guess that was the whole point of everything, confusing us, but I’m sorry that Simon put you and even Daniella through all of that. I wish...ugh, I wish I could still find a way to punch him in the face. Or be the one to actually shoot him.”

it was fine

not fine

but it was fine now

she didn’t need to feel sorry

“Thanks,” he said after a moment, taking a deep breath. “Like I told you before, it’s always nice to finally get to tell my side of the story.”

“Yeah, about that—if...I don’t know, if you ever need something....I guess that’s my way of trying to fix things. I didn’t believe in you at first. If I...if I did try to listen to you before, most of the shit Simon’s been pulling wouldn’t have happened.”

Finally, when she cleared her throat, her hand left his shoulder. She patted her hair awkwardly before getting up from the bar table, her beer untouched.

She started walking, and he started watching her go, but then she stopped. He closed his eyes. And when he opened them again, she was staring at his face.

“Do you have a place to sleep?” She asked bluntly, so bluntly that he could only blink and blink and blink. “I mean, you haven’t been sleeping on bench parks, have you?”

He blinked again.

bench parks

sleeping on the streets

He knew he shouldn’t. But where else would he sleep? He didn’t have a place. He spent five years knowing he’d die. And now that he was going to live, he didn’t know what to do. There was nothing to do. Nowhere to go.

“Maybe,” he told Marney after seconds tick by. No point in lying to her, he supposed. “Doesn’t really matter.”

She seemed conflicted.

She blinked.

Swallowed.

Coughed.

Ran her hands over her face.

And then she groaned.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, but get up,” she said with a scowl—like it was his fault he didn’t have anywhere to go. “You’ve got a place to sleep tonight. Only for tonight!”

He didn’t know what to make of her.

But he trusted her.

In the back of his mind, he could still hear the leering from the cops. They thought he and Marney are fucking or something. She must’ve heard this. She must. This was only going to give her more trouble.

But if she realized any of it, her face remained blank. And he supposed that if she could trust him, he could trust her with this too.

She wouldn’t do anything to him. He knew she wouldn’t. Not like what happened at Las Palmas, when he was at the mercy of everyone. She wouldn’t do this sort of thing to him, even if she knew he trusted her.

He’d never say it out loud—no one can ever know it—but all of that still scared him.

* * *

Marney’s house was exactly what he was expecting.

And at the same time, it was the opposite of what his mind came up with.

It was small, very very very small. Painting was ruined—had been for years, if he was going to guess. Wooden furniture creaked and groaned whenever Marney touched anything. Light flickered when she turned it on.

But it was cozy. There were bits and pieces of her everywhere. Trinkets. Photographs. Books. A ticket from the movies. And cases with “confidential” stamps. It was so...Marney that he felt tempted to laugh.

laughing resulted in broken noses

blood

no laughing of people

people could hurt you

But Marney didn’t want to hurt him. He needed to keep reminding himself of that. She wouldn’t have invited him here if she wanted to hurt him. She wouldn’t.

“Don’t look so impressed,” she said, locking the door behind them. Something about the click made a shiver run through his body.

locked doors

lethal injection

death

death

NO

LIFE

He cut his screaming match with himself to smirk at Marney. She was expecting something, and it looked like a smirk might fit the situation.

He must’ve been right, because Marney snorted once again. “Well, I bet it’s still better than all of your previous accommodations.”

His smile wavered, but it didn’t leave his face. “That you’re right, Detective. Though you don’t need to be one to know that.”

“Touché.” She smiled, gesturing briefly to the red couch in front of a TV. It had been fixed over the years, he could tell by the way the red changes in different places. But it looked comfortable. Much more than any bed he’s ever had. “You can sleep here. And, uh...I’m not sure if it’s something you missed—I know I wouldn’t—but you can watch some TV. I hear they’re reprising the films of that Washington guy.”

“Washington? As in Bob Washington? I used to really love that guy.” He cleared his throat after Marney stared at him for five tense, awkward seconds. “Platonically, obviously.”

“Yeah, right.” She scratched the back of her neck, awkward again. “I guess this is it. Unless you’re hungry? Maybe I still have something salvageable in the kitchen.”

He wanted to tell her no. He did. But his stomach made its opinion very clear, and soon Marney returned to his side on the couch with a bunch of crackers and those fitness energy bars.

“Not much,” she said with a shrug, eating her own energy bar.

“Thanks,” he muttered, staring at the crackers in his hands. Maybe crackers had all the answers God refused to give him.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Marney replied. “Just doing my best to fix what I messed up. And really, doing my best to fix what the justice should’ve done. They offer you official apologies, but refuse to pay indemnity? Thank you for being so fair, system.”

He nodded. He didn’t know what else to do. What else could he do?

“Still, thanks,” he finally said. “It’s been...a while since I’ve had a real reason to thank someone.”

She remained silent after that, just munching on her food. He thought she’d keep quiet until she blurted good night or something, but when she opened her mouth, it was to say:

“Riggs thinks I should take a break. Go on a vacation or something. He said, and I quote, ‘I hear Calgary is beautiful this time of the year, lots of mountains to explore.’”

“And?” He asked, not even sure why she was telling him this. “Do you want to go skiing or whatever?”

“Not really. Not a fan of snow. Not a fan of the stories about Calgary, either.”

“Stories?”

“Oh, right. I suppose you wouldn’t know, since you were in...um, you know. But there’s been some rumors about these mountains. People disappearing. Cops finding severed heads in abandoned mine shafts. Things like that. Riggs obviously doesn’t believe any of it, but I’m not willing to try my luck.”

“Never thought you’d be one to believe in horror stories, Marney,” he said, though he did smile.

“Like I said—not willing to try my luck. If you want to go explore some Canadian mountains, then by all means, be my guest.”

“No, thanks. Just escaped a death sentence. I’m not sure I want to dance with death again. Not for anytime soon.”

This time, Marney’s own smile slipped. The playful mood died.

stupid

don’t think about death

think about life

you’re alive

“Finn, I’m so so—”

“No.” He raised his hands, interrupting her, but looking like he was surrendering to something. “I understand. I do. And I forgave you and everyone already—if God can forgive, then I can, too.”

he didn’t forgive adam though

liar

abandoned him

never would forgive adam

but he shouldn’t need to forgive anyone

he was not a good man

never a good man

“I’m glad,” Marney said, breaking him free of his dangerous thoughts. “I guess this is good night now. Tomorrow we’ll...find somewhere for you to stay. Yeah. That’s it.”

He thought he waited too long to answer, to say something, because Marney turned around and started leaving.

Before she could disappear behind a door, he said, “Night, Marney.”

He didn’t see it, but something told him she was smiling. And that made him smile, too.

And so he spent the night watching horror movies, trying to get back to the world that he thought had abandoned him.

* * *

He stayed the next night as well.

And the one after that.

* * *

It had been five weeks already.

five weeks and he still didn’t know what he was doing

why was he still alive

if everything went the way adam wanted, he’d be gone now

Dead.

There would be no more Finn. No eating crackers, watching old horror movies.

no sharing an apartment with marney

he didn’t like thinking about not living with marney

But now

Now

Adam was on the TV.

Adam was supposed to die.

less than 24 hours

then there would be no more adam

And there’d still be Finn.

he didn’t understand

he hated adam

hated everything adam did

But he couldn’t imagine a life where Adam wasn’t there.

It felt

too much—

—always too much.

It suffocated him, made Marney’s apartment look much too small.

not enough space to breathe

not enough space

not enough

not

He couldn’t think.

It was too much. Too much, too little, too soon, not soon enough.

was there a way for him to go to calgary like marney was supposed to

would a mountain help him disappear

or at least stop his confusing thoughts

He grabbed the hem of his shirt—Marney brought it, brought him a whole new wardrobe he still wasn’t used to—and tugged. Tugged, tugged, tugged.

Yanked at it.

Yanked, yanked, yanked.

Until the shirt was no more, like him, like Adam, like everyone.

whatever was left of shirt was spread all over the carpet, like pieces of a human body

dismembered shirt

His head spinned. Spinned, spinned.

He was starting to run his nails all over his arms and chest—blood, it reminded him he still has blood flowing in his body—when the door creaked and opened and Marney entered the room.

Stared at him for three, four, five seconds. Dropped everything she has in her arms on the floor and ran to him.

It was autopilot.

“Finn,” she breathed, begged. Pulled his fingers away from his reddening skin. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Marney. Becky. Finn, are you hearing me? Hey. Hey, come back. Please, come back to me. Hey.”

come back

back to her

back

but where was he?

“Hi,” he said after a moment, closing his eyes as tightly as possible. He couldn’t look at the TV again, or everything would come back. He couldn’t look at her, or everything would hurt. “Hi.”

“Finn,” she repeated, still clutching his hands with hers. “Oh my God, what was that? What happened? Are you—”

“No. I don’t know.” He refused to open his eyes, but also refused to lie. “I don’t know. Please, turn off the TV. Please?”

All the white noise surrounding the room was gone in a second.

“Done,” she said. “Open your eyes, okay? Come on, no one here but me.”

“Adam is always here,” he said, tapping his forehead with his hand and hers. She still didn’t let go of him. “He’ll never leave me alone.”

“Adam will be gone tomorrow,” she said, and there was so much hatred, resentment in her voice. It made him open his eyes, and there was red fury in hers. “He won’t hurt anyone ever again. Not you. Not me. Not anyone.”

he looked away from her eyes

“He’ll never leave me.”

Instead of answering, she remained silent.

and he needed to look at her again

She was staring at him, reading him. Trying to.

Her eyes roamed, moved. She scanned his scars. The new marks he just caused, too.

And then, gently

always gently

she was never not gentle

Gently, her fingers touched his chest. The marks, old and new. It was a butterfly touch, barely there, barely contact.

but the butterfly’s wings still made his heart go faster, beat faster

he was scared

so scared

he was vulnerable

he hated being vulnerable

being vulnerable meant being hurt, whatever way possible

No.

No, Marney wouldn’t hurt him.

everyone would hurt him, wanted to hurt him

Not her. Not her. He trusted her. She was different. He trusted—

She

She

Marney

she kissed his chest.

It was scary.

A different sort of scary he didn’t think he’s ever felt.

Every muscle

Every muscle was rigid, tense

He was ready to bolt, to get up and run and disappear.

she still didn’t hurt him

Her lips were cold, but that was it. She gave him another kiss, this time between his shoulder blades. And then her lips were gone.

he was scared, so scared

but he missed her lips

he wanted to have contact with them again

“I won’t hurt you,” she promised quietly. She did, didn’t she? He wasn’t making it up. He couldn’t be making that up. He couldn’t. “And I won’t let Adam Jones ever get anywhere near you again, got it? You’re safe.”

He didn’t know why, but he believed her.

she was strong

she protected herself, her friends and she protected him too

she protected everyone

he trusted her

With everything inside and outside him shaking, Finn managed to move himself close enough to return her kisses with one of his own. It was faster than hers, but he hoped she understood it when he kissed the inside of her wrist.

It was his own promise.

He trusted her.

trusted her with his life

trusted her not to hurt him like others before her did

he just

he trusted her.

“It’ll be okay tomorrow,” she said, or he said, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

After minutes, hours, days, Marney made herself comfortable on the couch, careful not to touch him too much.

she understood his fears

he was so glad

“Are you still into trashy horror films?” She asked. Days, months, years later.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Her fingers brushed against his for a quick second. “Because I feel like watching one of them tonight. I sure hope we can find one!”

Together, they found and watched another of these Bob Washington films.

he paid much more attention to marney than to the scenes this time

she was fascinating

she made him feel good things

He needed to find a name for the good feelings.

For now, though, he was happy to look at Marney and feel safe. That was a good feeling.

* * *

When he woke up, next morning, Finn wasn’t sure how him and Marney managed to hug each other while they slept. But he still felt safe.

safe enough to give her another kiss, to pull her closer to him.

* * *

He stopped paying attention to time. Being with Marney was all that mattered, and he stopped being scared

hurt

afraid

after a while.

Soon, before he could even realize it, two years have passed.

Two years rediscovering what kisses, love, domesticity felt like.

Two years of sleeping and waking up with his Marney, his rock, his safe haven

_ his love. _


	2. PART 2—Becky, 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeeeeee let’s start introducing Man of Medan now, shall we? Like with many other things here, I’m going to take several creative liberties and change some things to suit this story.
> 
> With that said, I’m going to follow the route of: Conrad escaped when Olson kidnapped the others, and he came back with the coast guard later, only to find that everyone else had left already. Junior survived because I say so and he bonded with the others.
> 
> Julia and Alex are engaged, but they have a lot of stuff to do before they start planning their wedding aka figure out where the heck Conrad is and why he didn’t come back yet. They also didn’t figure out the whole truth about the poisonous gas, so some of them still believe they really saw zombies.
> 
> Also yeah, I know Man of Medan happens in 2018, but I don’t care and moved it to 2019 because I can do whatever I want here.

Becky Marney sighed happily after locking the front door of her apartment, swiftly snagging a blanket from its place on her sofa and wrapping it around her shoulders.

It was in days like these that she was grateful to be working as a private detective instead of being holed up at the precinct. The files for her current case were neatly organized in her coffee table, her messy scribbling staring at her from a distance. It was sweet how Finn often felt the need to clean up her messes, to organize her files and make things easier for her in the long run.

Her smile slipped from her face when she remembered their fight in the morning, her accusations and his accusations and both of their cutting words.

_“You’re never around for longer than a couple of hours, did you notice that?”_ he had asked, a bitter smile on his lips. _“I see how much you hate it. This job. I see the regret in your face every single day, the way you obviously wish you wouldn’t have chosen me instead of your work.”_

That had been too much for her to hear without biting back. She loved Finn, would probably always, always love him, but he could be so stupid sometimes. They weren’t angsty teenagers anymore, it was ridiculous to have fights about their insecurities instead of sitting down to actually discuss them like the grown adults they were.

_“Perhaps you should have also noticed the fact that you don’t even talk to me anymore,”_ she had said. _“Perhaps you should’ve stopped trying to put distance between us ever since I tried to talk to you about kids!”_

It hadn’t been fair, she knew it. Both of them were incredibly unfair to each other.

In _her_ defense, she had taken several tests two weeks ago and all of them had been positive. She’d go see a doctor soon, but how could she tell him about her tests if they were fighting?

But in _his_ defense, she had indeed been working much more since that argument about having children, months ago. It felt easier than to be home and get frustrated.

What Finn didn’t understand was that she’d never regret her choice.

Becky Marney loved Jonathan Finn more than anything else in her world.

It was just…

Sometimes loving him was hard.

It’d always be worth it, though.

She found him in the kitchen, messing with their refrigerator, grabbing some water. In a moment of impulsiveness, she allowed the blanket slide down from her shoulders and wrapped her arms around his middle.

He went stiff at first, but before she could count to three, he relaxed and leaned into her.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she whispered against his back.

Finn nodded, taking a deep breath before answering her. “Me neither, Marney.”

When he turned around, she smiled at him, and it was all it took for him to cup her cheeks and give her a kiss.

It was way too soon when their doorbell rang, rang, rang, insistent in ruining their reunion.

Finn chuckled against her lips, tucking a stray curl of brown hair behind her ear. “Go ahead,” he said, gesturing towards the door. “We can finish this later.”

She wanted to roll her eyes and say that it was exactly because of the many times they “finished it later” that she ended up with several positive pregnancy tests. Instead, though, she gave him a quick nod and a kiss.

Whoever’s at the door was pretty fucking insistent, because by the time she reached it, they were still ringing nonstop.

“Calm the fuck down,” she muttered to herself, before putting on a small smile to greet their guest. Her smile slipped and her face morphed into a frown as the door was opened. “Hmm…do I…know you?”

It was a girl.

A woman, really, but petite and delicate enough to still be called a girl. Her blond hair was pulled in a tight bun, and she had mascara running down her cheeks along with her tears.

Behind her, holding her waist, was a tall, dark man with a shaved head and a soft smile. Behind _him _were two other men—boys, really, judging by their features—one wearing glasses, one with a blue, dirty bandana. They couldn’t be older than twenty-two or three. The two men shuffled awkwardly from side to side, but seemed to be drawn to stand closer to each other more often than not.

Becky would have found it cute if it weren’t for the crying girl.

“I...I…” the blonde stuttered, not managing much more than that.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she suddenly blurted in an oddly maternal voice, surprising even herself. “Get inside so we can talk.”

The three men shot her grateful looks, and as they helped the girl inside, she noticed engagement rings on the fingers of both the girl and the tall guy supporting her.

She _was _a detective, after all, and she made a living by noticing every small detail.

“My name is Alex Smith,” the tall man introduced himself after the blonde was comfortable on the couch, offering Becky his hand. “This is my fiancé, Julia,” he said and pointed to the blonde. “My brother, Bradley.” The guy with glasses. “And our uh...friend, Junior.” Guy with the bandana and jittery attitude.

“Becky Marney,” she introduced herself out of courtesy, feeling compelled to do so by the guy’s polite manners. Of course, they probably already knew who she was. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, we were hoping…” Alex started before cutting himself off. “Are you, uh, still accepting new clients? For a case?”

“It depends,” Becky said. “What kind of case?”

“It’s complicated,” Alex said, but refrained from elaborating even after she raised her eyebrows at him.

“The kind that involves ghosts,” Bradley provided, receiving an elbow to his ribs from the bandana guy, Junior. “What? It’s true.”

“Ghosts.” Her eyebrows were probably almost disappearing by her hairline. “Okay.”

“It’s my brother’s fault,” Junior said in a hurry, tripping all over the words. “He wanted to find...gold, and he got us into a mess.”

“I see.” Becky nodded, urging them—any of them—to continue.

“Manchurian gold,” Junior completed.

She wanted to either laugh or shake the boy, but alas, she did neither.

“Okay,” Becky said, still eyeing Julia, worried that the girl might need more help. “And how, exactly, do you expect me to help? With whatever it is.”

“Olson, my brother, he took us to a ship,” Junior finally said, providing information she could actually use. “I don’t know how to get there. I don’t know how we even found it in the first place. But he’s still there, and he needs help.”

“My brother, Conrad, too,” Julia said, rubbing her eyes to dry her tears. She tried to smile at Becky, but the detective didn’t blame her for only managing a grimace. “He was supposed to find help, and I think he did, but he...he disappeared there, too. The only news I’ve heard from the coast guard is that the team they sent with someone who matches Connie’s description never came back and are all...all...presumed d-dead…”

Becky reached forward to give Julia’s hand a squeeze.

“How long ago was this?”

“Three months now,” Brad said, looking down. “Our captain, from when it all happened, she keeps looking for Conrad. She’s been searching everywhere around that area, and the ship is just gone.”

“Alright,” Becky said, straightening her back. “I’ve never taken a case like that before, to be completely honest with you. Can you at least tell me the name of this ship you’re looking for? I could ask around, see what I can find.”

“_Ourang Medan_,” Junior said, looking up from his hands. “It means ‘man from Medan.’”

“It’s a World War II freighter,” Brad completed for his friend, nodding. “There’s a lot of stories about it and—”

“They all involve people dying mysteriously and the ship never being found by anyone,” Becky finished for them. Finn was a lot of things, and one of them was a huge horror nerd. It was his way to cope, she supposed. To look for stories that couldn’t be explained. “This ship isn’t real, though. There’s no proof. There’s never been.”

“It is real!” Julia protested. “We were there! We saw...oh God, we saw all these bodies and monsters and I swear, it’s real! There was this mist, and I don’t know, it did things…”

“It gives life to things,” Junior said. “And it takes life, too.”

“Even if it is all real,” Becky said, stressing the _if_, “I have no way to find this ship. I’m so sorry.”

“Please, you need to help us,” Julia continued to plead. “We tried everyone we’ve heard of already, and I...I’m desperate! It’s my brother, he could be in danger, he could…he could be dead! Look, my dad is rich. We can pay you. A lot. Just. Please help us.”

Yes, she could use the money. But what compelled Becky to open her mouth and whisper an “okay, I’ll try and see what I can do” was actually the desperate look in that girl’s eyes.

Alex, the big guy, handed her a file.

“It could help,” he said. “My parents are friends with some guys at the coast guard, so they got the reports they wrote for us. It’s all we have. Please.”

Becky Marney could only nod, bewildered.

“Will you help us, then?” Junior asked, his voice low and subdued.

Becky stared at him, and then at Julia’s desperate, tearful eyes.

“I promise,” she said. “I promise to do my best to uncover the location of the ship and find out what happened to your brothers.”

It’s only after they’ve already left, Julia having hugged her so many times she had lost count of them already, that Becky decided to open the file they gave her and properly study it.

Quite sincerely, it was a mess. It was also surprisingly short. The file offered the coordinates of an area in French Polynesia where kids on a diving trip where kidnapped by pirates who wanted to bargain with their parents.

Conrad, Julia’s missing brother, escaped the kidnappers and went to the coast guard to ask for help.

According to the reports, he said, _“a bunch of lunatics dressed in dark capes woke them all up in the middle the night during their second week on the sea and started hurting everyone and demanding for their parents to be contacted before getting distracted by the coordinates of the location of some Manchurian gold.”_

It didn’t give the exact coordinates, since it said Conrad himself couldn’t tell for sure.

She shook her head, imagining how it must all have happened. A bunch of rich kids on vacation, having spent a whole week already on the sea by themselves. They were probably drunk as hell by the time the kidnappers found them, she supposed. And yet, one of the kids managed to evade capture.

Judging from the info on this file, the mention of the “Manchurian gold” and how Junior had said “my brother got us into this mess because he wanted gold,” she thought it was safe to say that Junior’s missing brother was one of the kidnappers.

So whatever happened to them, it was enough for the two groups to either merge or for Junior to switch sides. Whatever it was, it must have traumatized them all, considering how they all had puffy eyes.

The file on the kids ended with a caveat of _“as of September of 2019, no further leads on the location of the missing members of the coast guard team nor of Mr. Conrad or the kidnappers have been found.”_

“Where am I getting myself into?” Becky muttered to herself, shaking her head.

* * *

The sounds of running water brought her back to reality.

_Finn is doing the dishes_, her brain provided helpfully. She could hear the background sound of the small television he liked to keep in the kitchen to keep himself entertained.

She had been staring at the file the kids left with her, and it was...disturbing, to say the very least.

As she approached the kitchen, she saw Finn’s back as he splashed water on a plate at the same time someone screamed on the television and their blood splashed everywhere.

It took her a second to recognize what he was watching: _Blood Monastery_, one of Washington’s most famous works and Finn’s absolute favorite.

Even though the scene on screen was absolutely disgusting as someone had their freaking eyes gouged out, it reminded her of an old conversation, back from before she and Finn even started officially dating.

_Bob Washington._

_Alberta._

_Calgary._

_Blackwood Pines…_

_The Blackwood survivors!_

Of course! How could she not have thought about this before? The second she heard the story of the _Ourang Medan_ survivors, her brain should have made the connection. What other _huge _(as in total-media-circus kind of huge) case had been brushed aside due to people not believing in paranormal events? It was so obvious. _Of course._

Maybe they weren’t connected at all. Maybe it was a big coincidence. She had never read the full report on the Washington kids, only bits and pieces of it that Riggs considered relevant when he offered to let her help Canadian detectives.

But something in her gut told her that she had to check. It was the only thread she had to at least force herself to believe that what these kids were saying was true. She wanted to help them, but how could she, when she couldn’t believe their words fully?

Not only that, but there was a chance these survivors could help her in tracking down the missing kid. And the other guy, the kidnapper, of course.

_If the kid is still alive…_, her brain provided _unhelpfully_. Shaking her head, she decided to focus on a different “if”—if the cases were connected, if somehow it was the exact same “monster” terrorizing both sets of kids…it’d make a lot of sense.

Now, the only problem was to get her hands on the reports about the Washington children...

* * *

Felicity was a blessing.

Not only was she one of the few who didn’t start ignoring Becky after her marriage to Finn, but she was also able to pull some strings with some Canadian friends and handed Becky a copy of a case from 2015 named _The Blackwood Seven_.

She did, of course, offer Becky a warning along with the file:_ “I don’t know what you’re investigating, but this isn’t good news. Every officer in Canada was terrified out of their minds just by hearing the name of this file. They don’t talk about it. I hope you know that there’s a very good reason for that, Becky.”_

Yes, she had an idea. After all, years ago Riggs offered to let her assist a case in Calgary. She knew the story.

Which was why she needed this file. She needed to know how much of it was true.

And so she started reading.

_In February 2nd, 2015, following the disappearance and presumed death of Hannah and Bethany Washington, eight young adults ranging from seventeen to twenty reported “being attacked by cannibalistic monsters” in Blackwood Mountain._

_Joshua Washington, older brother of Hannah and Bethany Washington, was presumed dead. The survivors all sported varying degrees of trauma, ranging from psychological stress to severe blood loss, concussions and third degree burns. _

_Although Hannah Washington could not be found, Emily Davis had a deep puncture wound in her right shoulder, and DNA testing on the gash resulted in a match for Hannah Washington’s saliva. Jessica Riley, who was near death by the time she was found, also had her nails scraped after indicating she had fought her assailant; the DNA found under her nails also matched Hannah Washington’s._

_Upon search on the site, Bethany Washington’s severed head was found, already well into the final stages of decomposition, indicating her death to not be recent. The mangled body of a man identified as Jack Fiddler was found near Bethany Washington’s remains; it is unknown whether their deaths are related, but autopsy on Fiddler’s body revealed that he had only been dead for around three hours after the survivors were found. Analysis of the remains suggested that the killer had to be at least ten times stronger than any of the survivors._

_Blood and skin found on Samantha Giddings and Michael Munroe’s nails and clothes matched to William ‘Billy’ Bates’ DNA, one of the men mining radium in Blackwood Mountain, presumed dead in 1952._

_Bates was considered one of the ‘Miracle Men’ in January 1952, when he was rescued alive along with eleven other miners after a cave in in North West Mine, in which they were trapped for 23 days. However, his death was made official when the sanatorium he had been taken to recover was attacked by wild animals, resulting in the death of every patient and staff personnel a few weeks later. It is unknown how the survivors came in contact with Bates’ remains, although Michael Munroe states that ‘Billy attacked him and Samantha Giddings, causing some of their severe injuries.’_

Becky couldn’t stop reading. It was horrifying—like a train wreck. She barely could breathe. Even then, she couldn’t stop her gasp when she saw the headshots of the survivors—all of them young, so young, and covered in blood and bruises.

_Missing fingers…_

_Back completely burned…_

_Sprained ankle…_

_Dislocated kneecap…_

_Hypothermia…_

_Eighty percent of her body covered in gashes…_

_Insanity…_

It was too much, even for her. Even after the Trapper.

Maybe it was because...back then, she wasn’t possibly pregnant. Maybe because back then she didn’t need to imagine her own kid going through this crap.

She closed her eyes to recompose herself.

And skipped to the section of details on the survivors’ lives in the following years.

  * _Ashley Brown is currently a bestselling author of horror fiction and lives in New York with her self employed boyfriend, Christopher Hartley, who is also one of the survivors._
  * _Samantha Giddings and Michael Munroe got married in early 2016 and are reportedly living together in California, where they own a veterinary clinic. Their daughter, Jackie Giddings-Munroe, was born in late 2016._
  * _Matthew Taylor is an NFL player and married Emily Davis, the head editor of a fashion magazine and fellow survivor, in 2018. They both live in California as well._
  * _Jessica Riley spent a year in a psychiatric facility in Alberta and recently moved back to the USA. Not much is known about her current whereabouts. She has acquired a minor criminal record for a bar fight, in which she bodily threatened a woman who allegedly accused the Washington family of “lying about the events of February 2nd.”_

Releasing a humorless laugh, Becky whispered to herself, “At least we can say for sure that trauma does bring people together.”

Her hand immediately goes to her belly. She knew that already, of course. Herself and Finn were proof enough, and now...now they might have a kid on the way.

For some reason, it made her eyes go back to Samantha and Michael’s names, and she briefly wondered if the trauma they endured affected their daughter as much as she feared hers would affect her own unborn child.

_Hypothetical unborn child_, she reminded herself hurriedly, since she hadn’t taken a blood test yet to confirm what the pharmacy tests said.

With that, she slapped the file shut and got up from her place on the couch after seeing the sentence _“this case has been cold since 2016, no investigation was able to uncover the details of what happened on February 2nd, 2015.”_

Of course no investigation could uncover it. How could it, when they were looking at the events from a logical, skeptical point of view? She couldn’t blame anyone for it, because if it weren’t for the teenagers she met today, she wouldn’t think that dead people could still attack and harm the living, overpowering anyone with their superior strength.

She didn’t believe in ghosts, not really. She was still too skeptical for that. But she believed that Hannah Washington and William Bates could’ve come in contact with radiation that could’ve resulted in mutations. It could have made them keep living after their presumed deaths, it could’ve made them stronger and...cannibalistic, too, apparently. That was what the survivors insisted on, at least. That those people were possessed by evil spirits that compelled them to resort to cannibalism...was too much for her.

Although a small voice in the back of her mind insisted that it could be the truth. It’d match so perfectly well with the story the other survivors told her, about the lost_ Ourang Medan_. Supernatural events would be real. Monsters would be real.

No.

Similar stories told twice could be a coincidence. If there was a third time, she’d believe it.

Yes, that was good. She’d investigate more later to prove that either it was all a lie or that...monsters were roaming free.


	3. Interlude 1—Alex, earlier

It was torture.

These last few months were absolute torture. It was like watching as Jules slowly killed herself. She left her parents’ big, fancy-ass house to move to his small, definitely-not-fancy-ass house barely two weeks after they got back home.

Not that he really blamed her, no. Her parents were always...colder than what Alex considered usual, but after Conrad went missing? It was hell. The times he visited her, he watched as she endured micro-aggressions and whispered conversations of “how things would be like if their boy was with them, how Conrad would have already found Julia by now.”

Things weren’t much better in his house, though. It was crowded as fuck, and sometimes he felt like Julia needed time to be alone and process everything. In such a small house, there was no way for that to happen. Plus, she might’ve given up on studying, but he still attended med school. He was very proud of it, too.

It was his way of coping, he supposed. Focusing on something else, something that was actually real. Because, no matter how many times he looked back on those memories, he could never make sense of them. What was real and what was not.

He tried.

Alex did his absolute best—even though “his best” never felt like it was enough for himself or for anyone else—to be a good fiancé, a good brother, a good friend.

He tried.

But he was still grieving, too. He and Conrad might have had moments where they didn’t reeeeally get along, but Alex cared about the guy.

His pain was nowhere near Julia’s, he wouldn’t dare to compare them. But he needed the time to say goodbye, too.

He needed—

Time. Just. Time.

Julia still said from time to time, “He’s alive, Alex. I know Connie is alive and we’re doing nothing to bring him back.”

He wanted to believe her. But. There was always a but, of course. _But _the coast guard assured them, their families, everyone they possibly could, that it was a lost cause. They said they were grieving as well, had lost good men when the boat disappeared.

Everyone was grieving these days, but no one managed to actually feel empathy for the other.

Grieving. Such a weird feeling.

“Moving on” felt even weirder, though Alex wasn’t sure when any one of them would be ready for that new feeling anytime soon.

* * *

The first time Brad brought the matter of Junior’s—the surviving pirate who ended up becoming part of their group—homelessness was around three weeks after they got back. Julia had just moved in with them the week before.

“He’s completely alone now that Olson is uh, missing, you know,” Brad had said.

“Brad…”

His brother had raised his hands defensively. “I’m just saying! He has been really nice to me, and I feel bad. That’s it, alright?”

* * *

That wasn’t it.

At all.

After four more times of nagging, he gave in to his baby brother. Their already crowded house became even more crowded, because he agreed to let Junior stay with them until the guy found somewhere more suitable and permanent.

* * *

It didn’t take much longer after that, though, for Alex to start feeling isolated and alone.

He knew they were all grieving, scared as fuck, and who knew what else. He did know that.

But most nights, when nightmares plagued him and he’d stay awake for hours, he’d hear things he was sure weren’t meant for his ears.

Junior, the tough pirate guy with the funny accent and the quiet words, would spend much more time in Brad’s room than he did in his own. And whenever Alex eavesdropped, he’d hear the guy crying.

“He wasn’t the best, but he was my brother,” he would say. “I miss him.”

If that was all, he’d be fine with it. Brad seemed to have gotten really close with the guy, and he was apparently doing a fine job as a listener and advisor.

But no.

When he moved on to allow Junior and Brad some privacy, he’d find Julia, huddled in the bathroom, hidden, talking to Fliss. She’d cry more often than not.

And Julia, just like Junior, would repeat again and again, “I know he was an asshole, but he was my brother and I miss him.”

* * *

It was after witnessing too many of these moments that Alex grew tired of it, took Brad to a corner, and suggested they find a detective or whatever to help them find at least the bodies of Conrad and Olson.

“Uh, I, uh, actually,” Brad stuttered, “kinda already had that idea and searched for some potential names. I hope it’s okay?”

That innocent look on his brother’s face, that sheer insecurity and fear of being reprimanded was enough to make Alex give him a big hug.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll find someone together.”

Brad nodded, as eager as he was as a child, and started showing Alex his big list of “potential names.”


	4. PART 3—Becky

Finn was already waiting for her in their bedroom, a soft smile on his face. Sometimes, some of her cases would bother him for one reason or another. She suspected this was one of these times.

Becky changed into her pajamas and sat on their bed, hugging Finn from behind.

“Any ideas on how you’re moving forward with this new case?” he asked, his voice small, barely a whisper.

“I’m going to follow something that could be totally unrelated first,” she said with a small laugh. “Your obsession with Bob Washington’s films might have given me an idea.”

“Excuse me, but I’m not _obsessed!_”

She twisted around to give his cheek a kiss.

“Whatever you say, Johnny.” She laughed at his offended expression before sobering again. “I think I mentioned it before, how Bob’s children were involved in a huge case in Calgary, right? I have a hunch it could be somewhat connected to what that bunch of kids from earlier went through.”

Finn frowned. “Really? But that case wasn’t from, I don’t know, five years ago? And isn’t this new one about...supernatural shit?”

She shrugged. “Well, yes, but that case also seems to be about ‘supernatural shit’ if the reports I read are anything to go by. I mean, I guess it’s worth it to at least check before moving on, right?”

“I wouldn’t know, darling,” he said after a discreet yawn. “You’re the detective, after all.”

“I am,” she said with a smile. “And tomorrow I’ll start by going after the easiest Blackwood survivor to find: Ashley Brown. She has a book signing nearby, actually.”

It was almost too funny the way Finn’s mouth hung open, the way his eyes seemed like they’d fall from their sockets if he widened them any more.

“You mean, you want to meet Ashley Brown? _The _Ashley Brown? Who was called by Stephen King himself the heiress of horror?”

“That’s the one, yes.” Now, she couldn’t help her laugh. “Aw, look at my husband, geeking out again! Your love for horror stories will never stop being cute.”

He rolled his eyes at her to that, opting to instead pull her flat on the mattress, towering over her with a big grin.

“I think we’ve done enough chatting by now,” he said. “If you’re going to keep mocking me, we’ll need to do something that requires a lot less talking and—”

She kissed him before he could finish his sentence.

* * *

The line of people wanting a signed book from Ashley Brown was ridiculous. And, of course, Finn wanted her to stand in line and get his copy of _The Curse of the Wendigo _signed.

Looking at the book now, Becky couldn’t help but frown, wondering if she should’ve read it.

_Wendigo…_

That was definitely a word the Blackwood survivors used to describe the cannibalistic monsters that hunted them years ago.

_“The wendigo is a formidable hunter when there’s daylight, but it’s unstoppable and invincible when it’s night,”_ is what the synopsis of Ashley Brown’s book said.

Well.

That was interesting. Becky was _positively sure _one of the survivors said something along those lines when mentioning notes by the dead man, Jack Fiddler. She’d definitely be rereading those files and she’d most likely pick up Ashley’s book.

She wouldn’t try to profit off her friends’ trauma, would she? She wouldn’t...mock their night terror. Would she?

That was the question, wasn’t it? She was here to figure out who Ashley was, and how much she’d be willing to help in Becky’s investigation.

As she stared at the young woman, Becky barely noticed the line moving.

Ashley Brown was still a mousy woman, though her straight red hair was much shorter than what she had in 2015. It was also odd, she noticed, to see the woman without a beanie. And, unfortunately, for as much as it made her cringe, Becky also found it strange to finally see Ashley Brown when she wasn’t covered in blood.

“She’s awesome, isn’t she?” A young girl clutching Ashley’s book tightly against her chest asked.

It took Becky a while to realize she was the one being addressed.

“Oh, yes, she is,” she quickly answered. “Have you read the book yet?” She decided she could very well fish for more information while waiting.

“Are you kidding?” the girl’s eyes widened. “I’ve read it three times already! It’s _that _great.”

Becky snorted. “My husband thinks so, too.” Then she paused. “Do you think...that what Brown wrote is true?”

“What, that wendigos actually exist? No, not really. I mean, sure, I’ve seen the news about a bunch of people suing her because she was supposedly sharing intimate info. But how could she? It’s just fiction. But it’s very popular, so anyone suing her could make a lot of money.”

Based on the long rant, Becky deduced that this news was probably something big among Brown’s fans.

Looking at Ashley once again, Becky could see that this woman was far from the scared eighteen year old she had read about. This woman was now twenty-two, and she looked like she could command this entire room to do whatever she wanted.

“Right,” Becky answered the girl next to her. “You’re right.”

And then, before she knew it, it was her turn to stand face to face with Ashley Brown.

Finn probably would’ve enjoyed this moment much more than she ever could, because right now she couldn’t see an author—all Ashley Brown was to her was a survivor and a witness who could potentially help her with her current investigation.

With a sigh, Becky put a smile on her face and handed Ashley Finn’s copy of her book.

“Jonathan Finn, please,” she said.

Ashley smiled back and wrote it down. “What about you? Do you want me to include your name?”

“I’m Detective Marney.”

It was enough for Ashley’s smile to turn frosty. She finished Finn’s dedication and pushed the book towards Marney.

“Detective Marney,” she repeated. “I see. You’re not here for the book.”

“No, I…” Becky sighed. “My husband really is your fan, but I’m here because I was hoping you could answer some questions.”

“If it’s not about my book, I don’t really need to answer anything, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look like she was sorry at all, but for some reason Becky kept pushing.

“I know a lot of people asked _a lot _of questions about what happened in Blackwood in 2015, and I also know some people were upset that you published a book based on their experiences there—”

Ashley laughed dryly. “This book is _fiction. _Nothing here is real. Wendigos aren’t real and you, a detective, should know that.”

“I’ve seen interviews where you mention sawing machines and monsters and—”

Once again, Ashley stopped Becky before she could finish her sentence, “I was fucking _stoned _and Josh had all these special effects, of course I got confused! We all did!”

“Miss Brown...Ashley, you know that’s not what you told the police back then. What everyone else did. I understand being overwhelmed by trauma, but how could you explain everything that happened?”

She blinked owlishly before giggling. “You read the reports? Those are bullshit! Like I said, I was high as kite, and I wouldn’t put it past the others to be, too. I’d say...collective hallucinations? I don’t know. I don’t care. If you’re asking me this because of the book, you should know that that’s just fiction, exaggerations of anything that might have happened.”

“The scars, head trauma, hypothermia and many other injuries sustained by your group were very real, though.”

“Yes, well, there were wolves in that mountain. Bears. That’s how we got hurt, of course.”

“I’m sorry I’m being pushy, but the injuries Miss Riley suffered couldn’t have been inflicted by these animals. That’s not to mention the bite on Miss Davis’ shoulder—when examined by lab techs, all they could find in there was Hannah Washington’s saliva. A deceased girl! A bear couldn’t have done this, and I think you’re well aware of this fact, Ashley.”

“You’re right,” Ashley said, her eyes turning cold. “You’re being pushy and inconvenient. I’ll have to ask you to move, there’s a line of people behind you with actual questions to ask me. Good day, Detective Marney.”

Becky knew a dismissal when she saw one, and she nodded to Ashley Brown before moving away, allowing her fans to rave about the stupid book.

As she made it to the sidewalk outside the bookstore, a tall, blond man wearing glasses ran to meet her.

“Hello,” he said, fixing his glasses almost nervously. “I’m Chris, but...if you were here because of Blackwood, then you probably already knew that.”

Becky smiled wanly. “Hello, Mr. Hartley,” she said, nodding so they wouldn’t need to shake hands.

“Look, I’m sorry about Ash,” he blurted. “She’s been through a lot, we all have. We’re all still overwhelmed by that night, and people from all over the country kept knocking on our doors to ask questions. We’re all pretty defensive about it.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” He narrowed his eyes, seemingly trying to read her intentions. “How?”

“Because I’ve been hired by a group of teenagers who went through something similar. Something...supernatural, at least according to their story.”

He stared at her for a long minute after that before deciding to nod.

“Okay,” he said. “I guess I understand why you came to us, then. But...word of advice? Don’t bother. No matter how noble, I don’t believe any of my...of our...friends is going to want to talk. I’m sorry.”

“Not even you, Christopher?”

He shook his head. “It’s just Chris, please. But no. I...can’t. I can’t think about that night. _I can’t. _We’ve all worked really hard to put it behind us, so please, _please _let us move on. Hannah and Beth...and Josh...it’s all too much.”

“Are the wendigos real, Chris?” She pushed. She had to know. “What you told the police years ago was the truth?”

“Of course it was! Why the hell would I lie in my statement?”

Becky patted his arm awkwardly. “I’m not accusing you. I’m just wondering...why be with Miss Brown? Why allow her to explore your trauma, write a book about it and call it fiction?”

He sighed then, looking sad. “Because none of the others would stand by her,” he whispered brokenly. “She needed help, and I was the only one who could help her. The others...abandoned her when she told them they were making that shit up. She still tells me, from time to time, how that night was a load of bullshit. But I love her. And she needs me.”

At that moment, when he looked like he was on the verge of tears, he turned around and left. Went back into the bookstore, leaving Becky to stare at his retreating figure.

This wasn’t encouraging at all, but she made a promise. She _promised _those terrified teenagers she’d help them.

Yes, she was going to keep that promise and investigate until the very end. Even if she had to uncover everything the police couldn’t.

* * *

Matthew Taylor and Emily Davis were much less interested in talking to her than Ashley Brown was. They sent their assistant to answer her questions, though most of her answers consist of, “Mr. Taylor and Mrs. Davis have nothing new to comment regarding this.” Even then, she forced herself to smile and offer the assistant a card with her info “in case Mr. Taylor and Mrs. Davis has something new to tell her.”

Still, she had to meet with the kids today to report on her findings. Her palms were sweating while she waited for them in her living room, and when the doorbell rang, she pretty much jumped on her feet to answer it.

It was Matthew Taylor.

Instead of Julia, Alex or his brother and the odd guy that was accompanying them before.

She must have kept staring at his dark eyes for far longer than necessary, because he cleared his throat and gestured to her living room.

“Can I come in?” he asked gently. “I promise I’ll be brief.”

Just like Ashley Brown, this man was far from what she had seen on the headshots of 2015. Just like Ashley, he was no teenager anymore.

“Yes,” Becky said, finally finding her voice. She moved out of his way. After closing the door behind her, she asked, “Did something happen, Mr. Taylor?”

He smiled—but it was far from a happy smile. Instead, it looked hollow and sad.

“We didn’t do it,” he stated simply.

“What?”

“I know why you came after Emily and I. And the answer is _we didn’t do it_.”

“Mr. Taylor, I’m not sure—”

“You’re not the first detective or police officer and whatever that came after us. Do you have any idea...how many times people tried to make us ‘confess’ to have killed J-Josh and that Fiddler guy? You’re not the first one. So I’m here to save your trouble—it wasn’t us. We already told you guys again and again who—what—did it, but no one ever listens.”

For a second time since meeting the man, Becky was stunned into silence. Her first coherent thought was, “well, it seems like the Blackwood boys like interrupting people.”

After a moment, she straightened herself enough to say, “If you had actually bothered to listen to me, you’d have known that I don’t care about that part. I wanted to know...about the wendigo things.”

He frowned. “No. You wanted to ask about Hannah and Beth, didn’t you?”

“That depends. How are they connected to the monsters you believed to have seen?”

“Seen?” He laughed, though, again, it lacked any humor. “We were fucking attacked. She…Ha—the _thing _grabbed me by the collar and if Em hadn’t thought to give me a gun, it would’ve impaled me on a _meat hook. _A fucking meat hook.”

Becky couldn’t help but shudder at the image he just painted.

Then she frowned. “What did it look like?”

“The meat hook? I’m sorry but I wasn’t feeling very inclined to stay there after almost dying—”

“The monster. You said ‘she.’ It was Hannah Washington, wasn’t it?” She was surprised at how blunt she managed to be, at how her voice didn’t shake with her skepticism.

For the first time, it seemed like _she _was the one who stunned Matthew.

“Yes,” he finally whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. “I didn’t recognize her at first. She was...it was...it wasn’t really her. It wore her body, but it wasn’t _her_. Not the Hannah I knew. She’d never...but then...she was different. Her eyes were gone. They weren’t warm and happy, they were milky and unseeing. Her whole body...it seemed to have stretched so much that she was a pile of bones that was twice my size.” His tears were running freely, but Becky couldn’t move enough to offer anything to him. She could only listen. “When she found Jessica and I, in the mines...for a second...I wanted to let her kill me. I wanted...it’d have helped Jess escape, and it’d have been what I deserved. I...I should never...never have been part of that stupid prank. If you had seen the way she looked at me…the way she could barely believe I’d do something so shitty…”

The gears kept moving fast in Becky’s brain, desperately trying to connect the dots the cops never managed to. But all she said was, “You loved her.”

Matthew nodded. “As much as Em loved Beth, actually.” When his eyes met hers, he snorted. “Don’t look at me like that, Detective. With pity. Em and I aren’t unhappy together. We make it work.”

“What about William Bates, then? He was presumed dead, like Miss Washington. Was he...like her?”

Matthew shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I mean, probably? I never even saw this guy. Mike said...there were so many of them...but the only one to ever come near me was Han. No, no, not Han.”

It was on that moment that her doorbell rang again, and this time Becky was sure she knew who it was.

Matthew jumped to his feet, ready to bolt. “I shouldn’t have come,” he said, running towards the door.

But before he could leave, the door was opened and he was face to face with Bradley Smith, the quiet guy with the glasses from before, unblinking.

Matthew hurried past Bradley, muttering a small apology, not looking back at Marney.

After staring at the departing man for almost ten seconds, Brad finally moved inside, offering Becky a smile.

“Holy shit, that was Matthew Taylor! Blackwood Seven, right?”

Becky frowned. “How do you know that?”

“Detective Marney, do you have any idea how much time we spent on obscure subreddits trying to figure what the fuck happened to us? Of course people would talk about the wendigo shit that happened in Blackwood. There were pictures of the Blackwood Seven all over the internet, lots of them.”

“...okay,” she conceded with a sigh. “I thought your cases might be connected, but I’m guessing not.”

“What? No! If it was wendigos that we saw, we’d have guessed it by what we saw online. Definitely not wendigos.” Brad shook his head. “But I guess...you’re right. These guys probably would be the only ones to believe in us. Maybe they could help, right? They lost all the Washington kids there, and I’ve heard rumors that someone went back to rescue Joshua Washington.”

“The boy that was presumed dead?”

“I know, it sounds crazy. But I wouldn’t doubt it. And...I guess...I’m holding onto hope that they could help rescue Junior’s brother, too. And Conrad. Of course.” Brad sighed. “The thing is...Julia is my friend. Junior, it’s super weird, but he’s my friend, too. And I want to help them. And they’re sad, because the coast guard and everyone else is saying that we should let it. That it was just a shipwreck, even though the ship didn’t sink at all. It’s not fair.”

Becky’s frown softened at his broken tone. “No, it’s not. I’ve told you all before, and I’ll say it again if you need me too: I _will_ help you. If not to find your friends’ siblings, then to help you prove what killed them.”

Brad nodded, smiling a bit.

“Thanks,” he said. “I actually came here...because I might have an idea.”

“Oh?” Becky tilted her head to the side.

“The lady that was with us, Fliss, she has a boat. _Duke of Milan_.”

“Yeah, I think you guys told me that before.” Becky nodded. “She’s been looking for Julia’s brother on her own for the last few months, hasn’t she?”

“Yep, that’s her,” Brad said. “So, she’s kind of my friend too. And I can call her. If you figure anything out, we can ask for her to come back and we can use the _Duke_ again.”

“That...could work, I guess,” she said, frowning a bit. “It’s a big _if_, to be completely honest with you. _If _we find any new clues, _if _the Blackwood survivors agree to help us. But _if _it all works out, then yeah, this is a great idea.”

Bradley’s smile widened—it was, Becky noticed with a start, the first time she saw one of her new clients smiling for real. Not a small, polite and fake smile. Not a grimace. But an eager smile.

This boy trusted her.

She felt her heart missing a beat at the thought of letting these kids down, when they were trusting her so much.

“I’ll give you a call when I have anything concrete, alright?” she told him, smiling as well.

“I’ll be waiting for it.” Brad shuffled his feet. “Thank you, Detective Marney. For everything.”

* * *

Becky sighed as she dropped on her bed, completely exhausted. She was physically and emotionally drained.

Finn was already there, under the covers, happily holding the copy of Ashley Brown’s book that was autographed.

“At least one of us is happy with the outcome of meeting Brown,” she muttered. “I don’t like her. At all.”

He put the book aside, turning to face her fully. She could see it in his eyes, the moment he decided to tuck a stray curl of hair behind her ears. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Becky said with a shrug. “She rubs me the wrong way. I’ve heard that apparently this whole book is based on what happened at Calgary with her friends and she just...disregarded their feelings, I guess. She says it’s all bullshit.”

“You’ve never told me details about Calgary,” he reminded her. “But I did read the book. Maybe we could discuss what we both know?”

Becky nodded. “Alright, so, is anyone sawed in a half in this book?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s part of the climax. Though I guess that’s a spoiler.”

“And that person in the end wasn’t actually dead, right? A pig was actually what was sawed in a half.”

“That’s _definitely _a spoiler, Marney.”

“Fuck,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Alright, alright. Did someone abandon the group to go out with a shotgun to fight the monster? Did they injure their knee doing so?”

“I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that.”

“_Fuck_,” Becky repeated with more gusto. “Did someone get bitten by the monster? Did the rest of the group believe they’d turn into a monster as well, like some sort of zombie?”

Finn touched her cheek gently. “Becky, honey, take it easy. Breathe,” he instructed. “I think it’s safe to say that Ashley Brown did write about what happened in your case.”

She nodded.

And breathed.

“I can’t believe someone’d do that to their friends,” she said. “Why? Why hurt them like this?”

“Maybe it was her way of coping?” He frowned. “There were some times...in Las Palmas...when Adam and I...we’d tell ourselves that some shit that happened didn’t actually happen. It was easier that way. It was...the only way to move on.”

The way he said it...it made everything inside her ache. Finn rarely offered information about his past, but whenever he did, Becky would feel so much anger at everyone who dared to hurt him.

She leaned close to him, hugging him tightly against her.

“No one is ever going to hurt you again, Johnny,” she promised, her lips brushing against his brown hair. “I’d kill them first.”

“I know you would,” he whispered almost immediately. “But I’m not sure...if it’d be worth it. I don’t want you to ever go to that place...where I was for so long…” She felt when he shook his head, probably trying to clear it. “C’mon, we don’t need to talk about this shit.”

She swallowed a sob at how broken he sounded.

“I love you,” she said. “I love you so much.”

He pulled her away for a second to smile at her. “And I love you too, Becky Marney. More than you could possibly know.”

He kissed her after that, and she tried unsuccessfully to keep her tears at bay while responding to his kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I’m not mistaken, during early development of Until Dawn, Ashley was supposed to be this super stoned girl who barely had any idea of what was going on because she was always smoking. I’ve decided to make my Ashley more similar to that Ashley than canon-Ashley because it seemed fun to explore. Plus I *might* have gotten some inspiration from The Haunting of the Hill House.


	5. PART 4—Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iTunes chose Perfect by Ed Sheeran when I was working on this and now I’ve decided it’s Mike and Sam’s song and no one will change my mind. I don’t make the rules, sorry. It’s all iTunes’ fault. Okay, bye now.

“She’s finally asleep!” Sam sighed, coming down the stairs and hugging Mike tightly. “She kept tugging on my hair and crying for a bit, but she’s asleep. I guess this means ‘alone at fucking last?’ Wait. What is...this?”

Her eyes roamed all over their living room, trying to take in what he did with it. The couches were pushed aside, their coffee table was right in the middle of the room, surrounded by all their pillows.

On top of the table, Sam saw much more food than she’s seen since their wedding day.

“Our way to enjoy some much needed ‘alone at fucking last’ time. We haven’t had a lot of this since Jackie was born, you know,” Mike said casually, shrugging, like this was no big deal for him.

She knew it was. She knew him well enough to see when he felt they needed time to strengthen their bond, to reaffirm their love for each other. Sometimes, she found it silly, how important it was for him to make sure she knew how much he loved her—couldn’t he see that she’d never doubt his love? That the way he looked at her, like she was the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on, was more than enough? That the fact that she trusted him with her life, _with their daughter’s life_, was proof that she knew it? Most of the time, though, seeing him finding new ways to proclaim his love for her melted her heart and made her fall in love with him for the hundredth time.

She imagined, not for the first time, what fifteen-year-old Samantha Giddings would think about her choices. Would she be disappointed that she didn’t actually become an activist and instead married the most popular boy in school? That she had a beautiful daughter with him and shared their home with several dogs and cats they rescued through the years?

To be fair with her teenage self, fifteen-year-old Michael Munroe _was _the biggest douche. He was selfish, arrogant and thought way too highly of himself. But...nineteen-year-old Michael Munroe saved her life more times than she could count, would probably have gladly given his own life to spare hers. And twenty-year-old Michael Munroe gave her Jackie, the biggest gift she could’ve ever dreamed of. Twenty-two-year-old Michael Munroe was the love of her life, Sam was certain of it. He’d go to the end of the world for her, though probably only if they managed to find a reliable nanny for Jackie.

Their love—and subsequent marriage and daughter—was concrete proof that people were inadvertently drawn to each other after surviving traumatic events together.

She wondered, not for the first time either, what would have happened _that night_, if they were closer. Would he have died for her? Would she have died for him?

She knew, deep in her heart, that if she had to face a wendigo _today_, she wouldn’t think twice before sacrificing herself so Mike and Jackie could be safe. Her first instinct would never be “survive!” again, not after them. Her first instinct would always be “protect them!” and she refused to be ashamed of that.

She shook her head, pushing away the bad thoughts. The thoughts of _that night_. Instead, she smiled and asked, “And what are we doing after eating this...exquisite dinner?”

“Well,” he said with a sly grin. “I thought we could start with a little making out and see where it goes from there.”

She barked a loud, delighted laugh. It was exactly what she needed, the perfect way to bury unwelcome thoughts. “If I got a dollar every time you used that line, I’d be filthy rich by now.” Then she shook her head, still staring in awe at the amount of food Mike supposedly cooked for them. “Is this another ploy to convince me to make a sibling for Jackie?”

He honest-to-God pouted. Sometimes he made her wonder if the reason Mike was so connected to their daughter was because they were both secretly two.

Well.

Jackie’s birthday was coming up, and soon she’d be three. Mike, on the other hand, seemed to still be stuck on two.

“You know she’d love it! I mean, look at how much I love my brother,” he said, his pout never leaving its place.

“You _don’t_ have a brother, Michael,” she said slowly, arching her eyebrows as if to ask if he just lost his mind.

“I’d still love him if I had one, though.”

Sam laughed once again for lack of any other possible reaction. He was incorrigible, her husband.

“We’ll talk about this later, alright?” She said, sitting next to the table to start attacking the food. It was, after all, smelling heavenly. “Now, I’m starving!”

Mike seemed happy to comply, but if his little grin was anything to go by, they’d probably spend a lot of time practicing how to gift Jackie with a sibling later in the night instead of just talking about it.

* * *

She was right, of course.

As soon as they finished eating, they moved on to the other very much enjoyable part of their date night.

They were laying on the floor of their living room, kissing and giggling like the teenagers they had once been.

(Fifteen-year-old Samantha Giddings had seriously _no idea _what she was missing.)

Their phone chose that moment to ring.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, her lips barely leaving Mike’s. It didn’t seem like he was interested in the phone, though.

It stopped ringing soon, thankfully.

He laughed, and rolled them around again, adjusting his weight so he wouldn’t crush her. Mike licked his lower lip mischievously, lowering his head to kiss her again.

But then, because life seemed to like screwing them again and again, the fucking phone started ringing again.

“I’ll see who it is,” he said apologetically. He frowned after checking the ID of the caller, and carefully brought the phone to his ear. “Matt, my man, this better be good, Sam is a second away from tearing me apart.”

As she narrowed her eyes, he added with a chuckle, “Nope, I’m pretty sure she’s this close to actually castrating me, which we all know would be terrible for her because—hold on, _what? _Fucking seriously? I thought they had given up on us years ago. No, it’s okay. Seriously, Matt, don’t worry. It’s not your fault. Yeah, thanks for warning us. Take care, man. You, too. Yeah. Bye.”

She saw it in his eyes, the way their warmth was suddenly replaced by terror, the terror they felt _that night_, and she knew what this is about.

For years, people from all over the country would come to them to ask for statements, to ask all sorts of questions about everything they wanted to forget.

Even after four years, Mike couldn’t handle the sight and the smell of raw meat. Whenever he came in contact with it, she knew how it would end: with him throwing up in their bathroom, only to later lock himself in their room to brood and cry. The only time he heard the sickening noise of a knife cutting meat...Sam didn’t even like to entertain the memory.

She tried to be the stronger one, the perfect partner who wouldn’t be triggered by anything. But she couldn’t. She rarely allowed her family to witness it, but the sight of snow killed something inside her every time. Stepping on it, feeling her shoes crunch the ice...it was too much. Cold water would always take her back to that lake she had to cross, too, and sometimes it was even more overwhelming than snow. She could still feel the cold biting into her skin, the way hypothermia had sucked every bit of her strength and the way she knew she had to keep moving, because it was her only chance of surviving.

The months following _that night _were the hardest of their lives, and now someone wanted to dig it up all over again.

Hadn’t they suffered enough already?

When Jackie was born and they named her in honor of the man that saved them all—may Jack Fiddler’s soul rest in peace—Sam honestly thought it was all behind them.

She thought Jackie would be able to grow up without suffering because of _that night_. She never even wanted for their daughter to know monsters were real. It was terribly selfish, but she still wasn’t sure if she’d even let her daughter know about the existence of Hannah and Beth Washington.

But.

Now it felt like she was being robbed of the life she dreamed of.

It took barely two seconds for Mike to collapse in her arms, holding onto her for dear life. She nuzzled his neck, kissed his cheeks and finally hugged him back.

“Who is it now?” She asked after a long silence, after they were both sat on the floor, their backs against their couch, holding each other. “Someone we already met?”

Mike took several deep breaths before shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s a private investigator this time. Marney, Matt said. Former homicide detective apparently, too. She’s been asking a lot of questions, even went after Ashley already.”

“Yeah? And after most likely hearing Ashley being rude to her, she still wants to see us?”

“Must be a masochist,” he said, forcing a laugh for the sake of their mental health. “You don’t think...she’s another one of those people who are trying to prove that Josh survived, do you? That everything was a conspiracy or whatever?”

Sam shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. We won’t talk to her. We have Jackie now, we can’t allow people to just come here harass us anymore. Our daughter’s wellbeing and privacy come first.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a final nod. “Maybe she’ll go away with time. Maybe...they all will.”

Hearing his words, Sam knew he desperately wanted to believe in them. She did, too.

But her gut told her this was far from being over.

* * *

That night, Sam didn’t sleep. She stared at the ceiling the whole night, Mike and Jackie curled by her sides. 

They were her everything, her whole world. They were the reason she was still holding on, the reason she woke up every day to go to work and _live _instead of simply collapsing and losing her mind.

She felt a lone tear running down her cheeks, landing on the pillow next to Jackie’s mass of blond hair. She was so beautiful, her baby girl.

Sam couldn’t help but trace her fingers along Jackie’s cheekbones. They were identical to Mike’s, just like her nose and her bright, warm eyes. Their precious girl…

Another tear followed her first one, but she swallowed her sobs to avoid waking the two most important people in her world.

Jackie must’ve felt her mother’s distress, even while asleep, because she curled even more into Sam’s side, bumping her little nose on her arm. Slowly, the little girl found a way to crawl on top of Sam’s chest, her ear pressed against her mother’s breasts.

Mike must’ve felt something as well, because as soon as Jackie was settled, he turned around to wrap one arm around them both, successfully smushing the three of them together, almost as if they were a single being.

In that moment, Sam decided she’d do her damned best to guarantee a future for the three of them that didn’t involve being afraid twenty-four-seven.

* * *

Emily called her first thing in the morning. She couldn’t say it was unexpected—it really wasn’t, not when Matt had just called Mike last night anyway.

Sam just hoped she didn’t sound as exhausted as she felt when she answered with a weak, “Hi, Emily.”

“I’m going to take a wild guess here and say the reason you sound like you haven’t slept in ages is _not _because of a night of hot sex,” was Emily’s prompt, sarcastic response.

“Nope,” Sam said with a sigh. “I really wish it was.”

For a moment, Emily was silent on the other end. Then she sighed as well. “So, you already know, then? That there’s some detective after us?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Matt called yesterday.”

“_Of course _he beat me up to it, too. Sneaky bastard is always doing this.”

“I wasn’t aware marriage was a competition, Em.”

“Are you kidding?” Emily laughed. “Everything is a competition. You and Mike have been so boring since Jackie was born, you know. It’s like there’s nothing left for you to compete over.”

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose. It was way too early for Emily’s acid jokes, well intentioned or not.

“Em, please, I really need to check on Jackie, so can we get to the point already?”

Once again, Emily laughed. “See what I just told you? No fun at all.”

“Emily.”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” she said with a sad sigh. “I guess I just called...to ask how you’re doing. You know, because of the detective digging up stuff.”

Sam smiled. Or tried to. “I’m...okay. I have to be strong. Mike and Jackie...they need me to be strong and to always be okay.”

“Well, I’m not Mike and Jackie.”

“I know, Em. And I love you for checking in on me, it’s just...I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore when I think about that night.” Sam shook her head, looking around to make sure she was still the only one awake. “I tried to bury it deep, and it somehow keeps coming back again and again.”

“I should sue that bitch again for what she did to you,” Emily cursed lowly, venom dripping from every word. “First she tries to get me killed, and then she fucks with the mental health of the only friend I have that ever gave a shit about me? No way, Brown. I’m still going to fuck with you the same way you fucked with us.”

“Emily.”

Another sigh. “I know. Sorry, Sam. I just think that if it weren’t for that bitch, things would be so much easier for us all.”

“It’s not her fault,” Sam said. “Well. Not _just _her fault.”

“Whatever.” Emily cursed under her breath, muttering something Sam couldn’t even understand. “If that detective comes after you, give me a call, alright? I can ask my lawyers for a restraining order whenever you need it.”

Sam nodded, even though Emily couldn’t actually see it. “Love you, Em.”

Emily’s grunt could be translated as a “love you, too.”

And then, after hanging up, Sam decided it was indeed too early and went back to her bed.

She could damn well sleep in for once in her life.

* * *

She slept for more two hours, and when Sam opened her eyes again and gently moved from the bed, all reaction she got was Jackie blinking sleepily at her.

“Where you goin’, Mummy?” She asked, stifling a yawn.

Sam kissed her forehead. “I’ll just make some breakfast for us, sweetie,” she whispered. “You can sleep more if you want.”

It was all encouragement she needed. “‘Kay, Mummy,” Jackie mumbled, turning around to snuggle with Mike. He immediately hugged her back.

Sam smiled at Jackie’s sweetness, the pressure in her chest releasing a bit. With a nod to herself, she went to the kitchen to start their day.

But her happy mood was gone the second she heard her doorbell. Usually, she wouldn’t have a problem with it, but after what Matt and Emily said…

Well.

No use in delaying the inevitable, she supposed.

She had never met that Marney woman her friends warned them about, but once she opened the door and saw the person waiting on the other side, she knew.

She looked _exactly _like everyone else Sam had met through the years that had wanted nothing but to pry for details about the wendigos, about Hannah and Beth and Josh and everything else.

This woman, she even smelled like the others. Too much coffee, too much paper, and a hint of cigarette.

“Can I help you?” Sam asked the clearly uncomfortable woman once she noticed she had been staring at her in silence for too long.

“Yes,” she said. “Good morning, I’m uh... Detective Rebecca Marney. You can call me Becky, though. I’m here—”

“To ‘ask some questions,’” Sam finished for her. “Believe me, I’ve heard this one before. Many times, actually. The answer is no.”

“It’s different now. It is. There are kids...they went through something very similar, they need your help. So, if you could just talk to me, it’d...it’d…”

Sam laughed dryly. “Alright, I’ll give you that—you guys are definitely getting more creative. Trying to get me to feel empathy for some made up kids, alright. That’s new. You must’ve done your research.” She sighed. “But I’ll tell you something: after my best friend ate her sister and then tried to eat me and everyone else I care about, empathy doesn’t come easily anymore.”

“Mrs. Giddings...Samantha,” she tried, and Sam went stiff when she noticed Detective Marney looking at the pictures of Jackie she had behind herself. “From one...from one m-mother to another, _please_. I need to solve this.”

“Get out of my house,” she hissed, pulling on the ends of her hair. “Get out of my house, get out of my house, _get out of my fucking house!_”

She just…

Snapped.

Like a rubber band when pulled for too long, she snapped.

She didn’t even notice she kept screaming for the woman to get out until she heard the dogs barking from their place outside, until she heard Mike’s frantic voice.

Until she heard Jackie’s broken, worried, “What wrong, Mummy? What wrong? Why Mummy yelling?”

One look at her daughter’s eyes, filled with tears, and she stumbled to the floor, falling on her bum and tugging on her hair.

She couldn’t stop.

She couldn’t control herself anymore.

“Go play with the kitties, honey,” she heard Mike telling Jackie. “Mummy is going to be okay. Daddy promises to take care of her.”

“But Mummy don’t look ‘kay, Daddy…”

“She’ll be, I promise. Now go, sweetheart, please.”

Sam couldn’t control her limbs. She felt her hands scratching at her own arms and face, felt Mike when he tried to take her hands between his, but she wasn’t in control anymore.

“Sam, look at me,” he instructed. “C’mon, you’ve done this with me before. You know what to do. Deep breaths, Sam. Deep breaths. In and out. It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re safe.”

Her eyes were blurry—had she been crying?—but she could still see his silhouette while he knelt next to her, his hands releasing hers so he could cup her cheeks.

“Come on, Sam,” he kept going. “You’re the strongest person I know. You can do this.”

Through the haze, she saw the detective approaching them, whispering, “Mrs. Giddings, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

She saw when Mike turned to glare at her, too. “Haven’t you done enough? What are you still doing here? Get away from us! I’m calling the police if you come back.”

And, after that, everything was an indecipherable blur.

* * *

It was three days later when someone came to knock on their door again.

Sam went rigid the second she heard it, and Mike wanted to run to the door and tell whoever was there to fuck off, but she managed to shake her head at him.

“I can do this,” she said. “I’m better now, I promise. It won’t happen again.”

“But, Sam—”

“Oh, shush, you,” she said with a forced laugh. “Just trust me.”

Mike sighed and went to kiss her cheek. “I do trust you, Sam. Go ahead if it’s this important.”

She turned his face and gave him a kiss on the lips. “Thank you.”

When Sam opened the door, her heart in her throat, she was surprised to see it wasn’t Detective Marney at all.

It was a blond woman, barely old enough to be properly called a woman.

Her eyes were puffy and red, her short hair was spiked to all directions—as if she hadn’t washed it in a week. Or longer.

The sight was pathetic in the way that it reminded Sam of herself a few years ago. Staring at the scared eyes of this woman was like staring into a mirror, like facing a younger version of herself.

It made Sam’s heart hurt, though not in the way Detective Marney had done.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked as the woman hugged herself tightly with both arms—arms that were covered in red marks, probably by the woman scratching herself. “Do you need some water? Are you lost?”

That—

—caused the woman to start openly crying.

“I need my brother!” she wailed, shaking her head.

Oh, God.

_“I need my friends back, that’s what I need!” _Sam recalled herself screaming that at Mike, ages ago. It hurt everything in her to think about it now.

So she did the only reasonable thing she possibly could: she hugged the blond woman tightly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered. “What happened?”

The woman only shook her head, her whole body shivering. She didn’t let go of Sam, though.

“What’s your name?” Sam insisted.

That got her a whispered, weak, “Julia.”

“My name is Samantha, Julia,” Sam told her gently, hoping it’d help her focus on something else. “You can call me Sam, though.”

“I-I know,” Julia whispered, finally letting go of her and putting some distance between them. “I followed B-Becky here the other day, but I c-couldn’t talk to you.”

Sam felt herself going rigid. So this was still about that. Julia wasn’t just a regular lost girl.

“I’m so sorry,” Julia continued. “But I-I need your help.”

Despite her anger at being reminded of Blackwood, of feeling played, she couldn’t deny the pain in Julia’s eyes was real.

Julia was her mirror, and she could never deny that.

With a sigh, Sam gestured for Julia to follow her. “Come on, let’s go inside. My husband made some coffee.”

What neither of them expected was for Jackie to come running from the kitchen, effectively dodging Mike’s attempts to grab her, and to attack Julia with one of her bear hugs.

“You looks like my Mommy!” Jackie declared, beaming at a very startled Julia. “I likes you.”

For five long seconds, no one did anything. Sam and Mike stared at each other, bewildered, and then both moved their eyes to Julia’s. As soon as she recovered her senses, she complied with Jackie’s wishes to be picked up. Almost immediately, Jackie snuggled against her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry about this—” Mike was mumbling. “She does that sometimes and I swear, I don’t know how she can be so fast.”

“It’s okay,” Julia said, opening a small smile as Jackie started inspecting her face with her small hands. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

“You’re a terrible reporter or detective or whatever, then,” Sam said, shaking her head.

“What?” Julia looked startled. “I’m no reporter! I actually...hired Becky to help me with my brother. And she thought you guys were a good option.”

Sam frowned.

And she saw Mike doing the same.

Jackie, however, remained completely charmed by something on Julia's face.

“So what she said the other day…” Sam started and paused. “It was true.”

Jackie chose that moment to start squirming to be let down. “I wanna go with my Daddy!” she declared.

After Jackie was safely in Mike’s arms, Julia nodded.

“Yeah, I...I’m sorry for just popping up here. I’m just. I’m really desperate, and no one believes me when I tell them what happened and—” she interrupted herself. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Mike said, offering one of his winning smiles. The effect was kind of lost when he had a baby pulling on his hair. “We know _all _about telling people something and no one believing us. That has been our life for the last four years.”

“Yeah.” Julia sighed. “I’ve tried everything. But all they tell me is that I need to let things go, that there’s no way Connie isn’t dead by now.”

“If it’s any consolation, Josh survived for several weeks before Jess went back for him and—”

“Michael!” Sam scolded.

His eyes widened. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“You mean...Joshua Washington is alive for real? He survived, even though everyone says he didn’t.” Julia breathed out. “Brad was right! I can’t believe it, he was right! He said Josh was alive and that should give me hope about Connie, but I didn’t believe him and I was so stupid.”

“Well done, Mike,” Sam said, rolling her eyes. “Jess is going to kill us now.”

“You have to help me!” Julia pleaded. “I need to find my brother, please.”

“Look,” Sam started, “we believe when you say that something happened that can’t be explained. But we can’t drag our friends back into a nightmare. I can’t do this to myself, either.”

“You don’t understand, that place...that place is terrible.” Julia shook her head. “It shows you things. And my brother could be there, alone, maybe dying! I can’t leave him there. But I can’t find that place on my own either.”

“Alright, I’ll bite. Why can’t you find it on your own?”

“Because it’s not a place that can be found! We were there for a week, and that ship wasn’t there. But then, during a storm, the ship, _Ourang Medan_ or whatever, it just showed up out of nowhere.”

“You do know that we have zero experience with ships and stuff like that, right? I understand that you want help from someone who went through stuff that shouldn’t be possible, but our experiences are too different for us to be useful at all,” Sam explained.

“Weeeell, technically, Josh could still help,” Mike said with shrug. “You know how good he is with tracking things now. Wait. I shouldn’t have said that either, should I?”

“Mommy look mad now, Daddy,” Jackie provided.

“She does, sweetheart,” he answered, gulping.

“You have to help me,” Julia said again. “Can you tell me where Josh is? I can look for him on my own, I won’t say you told me anything. I’m desperate!”

Sam massaged her temples. “No, nope. You want to meet Josh, we’ll go with you.” If Jackie wasn’t currently staring at her, she’d have let out a _fuck! _by now. Alas, she couldn’t. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but can you call that detective you hired? We can go talk to Josh later today. As long as we find someone to babysit Jackie.”


	6. PART 5—Jessica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like with Ashley before, I’ve decided to take some creative liberties here regarding Jessica, Josh and Matt concerning when they were all stuck in the mines.

When she closed her eyes and went to sleep, sometimes she could still see it clearly, or as clearly as she saw it the first time since she was in a rough shape.

Jessica dreamed with how she accidentally hit Matt—poor Matt, who had only ever tried to help—with that rusty shovel.

She dreamed with his voice when he told her,_ “Jess, I need to tell you something, and I don’t want to freak you out, but there’s...there’s some kind of thing on the mountain. It’s not human...it’s like a monster.”_

And with her own when she answered, _“It came after me! It fucking pulled me down here into this fucking nightmare!”_

She dreamed with how they wandered in those mines—for seconds, minutes, hours, she couldn’t tell—and how she tried to make herself strong. She knew she—they?—wouldn’t survive otherwise.

She dreamed with looking at that damned elevator shaft, with Matt asking about it and herself telling him that she fell through the roof.

But everything in her dream would always become clearer when she remembered how they turned a corner and stumbled into Josh fucking Washington of all the people, crying his eyes out and mumbling to himself.

She dreamed with Josh’s desperate pleas, his cries of, _“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m so sorry.”_

The climax of her dream, however, was always when she noticed the blood dripping from Josh’s face and how the monster apparently opened a portal from hell and materialized in front of them.

She dreamed with Josh’s screams of _“Hannah! No, Hannah!” _and how her tired eyes finally noticed the distorted butterfly tattoo on the monster’s shoulder.

She dreamed with how it—Hannah?—got distracted by Josh long enough for Matt to grab her and save them both while leaving Josh behind.

She dreamed with how she yelled at Matt for that, finding strength in God knows where, and how she cried when Josh stopped screaming in the background.

She dreamed with being weak for long weeks, and with coming back to Blackwood for Josh because his terrified screams wouldn’t leave her mind.

She dreamed with finding him disfigured, looking as much a monster as Hannah did.

She dreamed with talking to natives about the Wendigo curse, about spending weeks trying to see what they could possibly mean when they told her Josh’s heart needed to be thawed.

She dreamed with spending even more weeks caring for him, giving him raw meat to keep him from hurting anyone, talking to him to keep whatever was left of his humanity.

She dreamed with being alone on that cold, stupid mountain, waiting for Josh’s soul to decide if it wanted to live or to die.

She dreamed with falling in love with him, and with him recognizing it even in his monstrous form.

She dreamed of getting him back, the good and old Joshua Washington, only with a huge scar marring half of his face.

She dreamed with his teasing voice, _“What? You thought I was born this handsome? Nah Jess, I had to make some adjustments.”_

She dreamed with endless nights of crying and healing and loving him and of hiding him from a world that wouldn’t ever understand or accept him.

She dreamed with telling his family and their friends, telling them everything, the naked truth, and of being visited in secret by them all from time to time.

She dreamed with a life where they kept a shotgun nearby, of being afraid and of still loving each other unconditionally, unrestrainedly.

And when she woke up and opened her eyes, Jessica would always be greeted by the sight of Josh’s disheveled bed hair while he snored into his pillow, hiding his scarred cheek from her view.

When she was awake and free from her memories and nightmares, she would always make a point of kissing Josh until _he _was awake and aware of how much she adored, loved him—scars and all.

_(He never failed to show her, in several different and unique ways, how he’d always think she was the prettiest girl on Earth, too. Scars and all.)_

She might never get to be a model or be on TV like her teenage self dreamed, but she would fucking follow Queen Bey’s advice and leave this world with no regrets.

* * *

That morning, after making sure Josh was alright and not about to lose himself in one of his panic attacks, their doorbell rang.

Only a small group of people had this address: Mike, Sam, Chris, Matt, Emily and Melinda and Bob Washington.

Whenever any of them visited, it never ended well for Josh’s mental health.

Jessica sighed and braced herself for what was surely going to be a long, difficult day and opened the door.

The first person she saw was Sam. And then Mike. Sans Jackie, though, which was a red flag. They rarely visited at the same time, but when they did, Jackie would always be with them.

And then she noticed the woman standing behind them, her light brown hair pulled into a bun, her eyes looking weary. She wore a long trench coat and shivered, which made Jessica frown. It wasn’t _that _cold, was it?

Behind the woman were two others, looking slightly...in awe? Terrified? She couldn’t tell. The girl, a petite blonde with a very short hair, looked definitely in awe. The man, dark skinned and wearing a blue bandana, on the other hand, was probably leaning more towards terrified. Something about his jittery hands and nervous side glances reminded Jess of Josh on his bad days.

“I think someone forgot to tell me there was a party going on in my house,” she said slowly, each word rolling from her tongue in suspicion. She glared at Mike and Sam. “Would you please tell me who the fuck are these weirdos? This castle is closed to visitations. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Jess,” Sam started, touching her arm gently. “It’s so good to see you’re doing okay. We were hoping...to talk to Josh. If you don’t mind.”

_I’m not his fucking keeper, stop trying to make it sound like I’m babysitting him_, was the first thing she wanted to snap. Then she wanted to snap that Sam didn’t need to pretend to be so cordial, not when she was obviously the one having the hardest time to forgive what Josh had done some years ago.

But she was surrounded by strangers.

“Who?” She asked, aloof, instead.

“Jess, we wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important,” Mike pleaded. “We need his help. We need _your _help.”

Before she could say anything else, there was a loud crash coming from the corridor followed by, “_Fuck! _Jess, I need help! I can’t see shit again.”

Jess sighed. “I’m coming, hold on,” she said before gesturing to their guests. “Well, come on. It’s not like I can say anything else now.”

* * *

It was when they were all sitting together and Julia and Junior, the blonde and the bandana guy, had finished their tale that someone dared to speak.

Not surprisingly, Josh was the first one to open his mouth.

“Wait, rewind. Let me get this straight,” he said, almost with a sneer. “A dude tried to kill you all, check. You barely escaped with your lives, check. And...you want to go back to your nightmares because of him? Should I say ‘check’ to that, too?”

“Josh,” Jessica said in a low, warning voice.

“My brother is there too, and he did nothing wrong,” Julia exclaimed and was promptly ignored by them all.

“How about I _‘rewind’ _then, huh?” Sam interrupted before anyone else could. “_You _tried to kill us all. _You _are the reason we almost got eaten. _You _are the reason Jess risked her life and went back to that stupid mountain. Should I keep going, Josh? I think it’s fair to say you owe us all for that.”

“Sam!” Mike said in the same scandalized tone Jess had used to reprehend Josh before.

Sam turned to her husband to shake her head sternly. “No, Michael. I don’t care what you all think, Joshua Washington is partially to blame for all the times I’ve accidentally woken my daughter up in the middle of the night because I was fucking screaming.”

“Fuck _you, _Sam,” Josh retorted angrily. “You think any of that is easy for me? You think it was all a walk in the park? You think _I _don’t have nightmares all the time? Think again. Maybe take a minute to remember I’m the one who lost his sisters, too.”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Jess exclaimed, getting to her feet. “Everyone is upset, I get it. Nope, we haven’t been able to let go of stuff yet and we all still blame each other for a lot of shit. But I think we can all agree to be, I don’t know, mature enough to behave in front of strangers.”

The way she said “strangers” made all of their guests to wince and look away. In turn, it made Jess sigh.

“Listen,” she tried again, her voice steadier this time. She stared at Julia for a second before moving to Junior. “I’m sorry about your brothers. I really am. But I’m not getting the point of you guys wanting to get me and Josh involved in this mess.”

“I can explain this part,” Detective Marney said, and for a wild moment, Jess was sure the woman would actually raise her hand before speaking. She had forgotten how people got easily intimidated by Josh’s presence these days. “I was hired to help them with finding the _SS Ourang Medan_ ship. The problem is that, according to their info, it’s not a ship that can actually be found based on geolocations.”

“Okay…?”

“I was told that your...uh, that Mr. Washington has some interesting abilities that could greatly help us, Miss Riley.”

“You didn’t really explain that part to me, though,” Julia said to Mike and Sam. “You only said he was a good tracker.”

Jess glared accusingly at Sam and Mike.

Sam, still bristling, didn’t bother returning the look.

Mike, on the other hand, said, “Josh, he...he retained some...abilities. After being transformed for a while, he changed. And even when Jess brought him back to normal, he still had some Wendigo mojo going on.” A cough to clear his throat. “For example, Wendigos are essentially blind. If you’re not moving, you’re invisible to them. It makes Josh…a little clumsy.”

“It’s temporary, though,” Jessica interrupted with a scowl. “Comes and goes.”

“Right,” Julia answered. “And his being clumsy is going to help us find that ship?”

“It won’t,” Josh said, sighing. “Like you said, the ‘abilities’ Michael dearest is interested are my tracking skills. I can hear all your heartbeats, smell any of you from a mile of distance. Hear you from a mile of distance, too. But maybe you’re also interested in my strength? In case you find something that could potentially tear you apart, of course.”

“He’s not your toy, Mike,” Jess hissed. “He’s definitely not some...some secret weapon or whatever you can use when it’s convenient.”

“I’m not saying he is!” Mike protested at the same time Julia said, “This is great!”

“No.” Jess crossed her arms over her chest. “Josh is _not_ doing this.”

It was on that moment that everyone decided they could talk at the same time, yelling at each other.

In the end, Jess settled it by grabbing her shotgun and pointing it at everybody present.

“You all are getting out of my house,” she hissed. “Right fucking now.”

It worked, of course.

The detective took longer to move, but the blonde woman, Julia, and the quiet guy, Junior, scrambled almost immediately. It crossed her mind that the two were potentially still traumatized, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not right now.

Mike and Sam remained glued to their spot in the middle of her living room.

“Out,” Jess repeated.

Sam glared one more time before stomping outside, while Mike offered a quiet, defeated, “I’m sorry, Jess” before trailing after his wife.

When they were all gone, Jess finally managed to breathe again.

“You know, I kinda want to do this,” Josh said after a second. “I know you hate it, but the...the part of me that is still...you know. That part kinda craves this sort of challenge. It wants to go.”

“Not everything is about wendigos proving that they’re the best hunters out there, Josh,” she answered tiredly, rubbing her eyes.

“Tell this to the part of the Makkapitew that’s still inside me.”

“There’s no part of him left inside you, that was the freaking point of bringing your soul back and shit,” she snapped.

Josh, in a gesture that was very unlike him, kneeled in front of Jess to take her hands between his own.

“Jess,” he started. “We were connected long enough for him to have left something permanent in me. I know you hate it. I hate it, too. But if I can use it to make something good for once, don’t you think I should?”

She blinked, allowing some tears to fall between them.

“No,” she whispered. “Not if it means facing another nightmare. One that’s not even ours.”

“Jess. Listen, I _am _going to do this. I need to help them. _I need to._”

“Just because Sam said—”

“It’s not about Sam!” He snapped, getting to his feet. “It’s about these two who were here! Julia and Junior or whatever. Don’t you get it? I’ve lost Han and Beth. Losing your sibling is like losing a part of you. If I can do anything to keep someone from feeling what I had to feel, then you can bet I’m doing this.”

He walked away dramatically after that—or what Jess supposed he saw as “dramatically” at least—but the effect was lost when there was a loud crash a second later, followed by:

“_Fuck! _Not again!”

She shook her head and got up from the couch to help Josh before he broke anything important.

* * *

She woke up the next day to the sound of Josh mumbling around the house.

“What the heck?” she mumbled herself, rolling out of the bed.

As she moved quietly—hours of evading Hannah _that night _taught her how to be stealthy—it became clearer that Josh wasn’t mumbling to himself at all.

“—yeah, I know,” he was saying. “Listen, I _know _what I just said. I’m going to talk to Dad soon, but it’s nothing concrete. Like I told you, it’s something Mom mentioned in a freaking text, so it could’ve gone nowhere.”

He paused to groan into the phone, getting more and more frustrated.

“I fucking know I said I’d help, and I’m going to call Dad if you’ll kindly let me hang up the phone for a second, alright?”

Another pause.

Either Josh was having a moment of blindness, or he was too engrossed in the call to notice her, because Jess kept inching closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, surprising her. “I say a lot of shit I don’t mean, and I know I can be an asshole. I’m sorry. I _am _going to help you. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll call you back. Yeah, bye.”

When he hung up, he looked right at Jess.

And finally saw her.

The bastard had the nerve to smile cheekily.

“Hey, Jess,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Who was that?” she asked instead, narrowing her eyes. “I seriously hope you weren’t planning shit behind my back. If I wake up tomorrow and find you gone, I swear I will—”

“Alriiiiiiiiighty, time to chill, Jess,” Josh interrupted her. “I was just talking to that detective. Mom texted me last night—I’m not joking at all—that she and Dad might go traveling for a while because he has a new project. And guess what this new project is?”

“Josh.” Jess rolled her eyes at his rambling. “I have no idea. Just get to the point.”

“_Ourang Medan!_” he announced with a big, almost maniac-y grin. “Nuts, right?”

She wouldn’t deny it—right at that moment, her mouth hung open.

It was like fate itself was conspiring against her wishes.

“Shit,” Jess finally mumbled.

“_I know!_” Josh exclaimed, like he thought it was all too funny. “That’s why I called the detective. Well, I actually called Mike to ask for her number, but whatever, semantics. I thought, ‘well, hey, Daddy dearest probably researched the hell out of this ship, he probably knows more about it than these guys who actually were there.’ You know how Dad gets. So I thought it could be useful.”

“Yeah,” she said, voice weak. “Marvelous.”

If Josh noticed how pissed she was at that moment, he didn’t mention it.

* * *

As it turned out, Bob Washington wasn’t _that _happy when Josh and Jess came all their way from their hidden house to visit him in one of his studios.

It hurt Josh so much, Jess knew. Every single time Bob showed embarrassment or shame over what his son had become, it cut Josh deep.

And there was nothing she could do this time, because it was all Josh’s idea. Because he wanted to help _fucking strangers_.

“You want permission for what?” Bob asked suddenly, shattering her thoughts.

“To see your notes. For the new film. Don’t worry, Dad, I’m not going to steal it,” Josh said, rolling his eyes.

Bob sighed. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of notes yet. All I have are historical records of a ship that blew up and sunk before anyone could do anything about it. Apparently, it was carrying a precious cargo of gold, but it’s all gone now.”

“That’s all?” Josh insisted, disappointment apparent in his eyes. “You have nothing else? There has to be something else!”

“No, there is not. I’m going to be able to take several creative liberties with this story, because it is, quite frankly, a ghost story. Not a story about ghosts. A story that slowly became a ghost for lack of any concrete info.”

For Josh’s sake, Jess asked, “Where are going to film it? I’ve heard that the actual wreck is in French Polynesia.”

It was true _if _what Junior and Julia told them was right. That’s exactly where they said it was, and hey, if Bob didn’t have any new info, they could get a ride from him to go investigate the place themselves since that was what Josh wanted so badly.

“French Polynesia?” Bob laughed. On her face. “No, that can’t be. I’d say the ship was probably lost somewhere very close to China.”

“If we could find some info for you out there, real info to help with the film, would you maaaybe pay for some tickets to French Polynesia?” Josh asked, offering his dad some puppy eyes and a pout. It didn’t quite work, since his face was still pretty messed up because of..._The Incident._

“Are you kidding?” Bob almost punched the table in front of him. “Your sisters are gone, and you want to risk yourself to go looking for ghosts? No, Joshua. I’m not going to give you money to go look for a lost ship for whatever reason you believe you have to. You are going to get yourself killed, and then what am I going to tell your mother?”

“I’d have recorded everything I found and given it to you. It’d be totally worth your while.”

“_No, Joshua._”

Surprisingly, Josh shrugged and dragged Jess outside after a, “Fine then. Bye, Dad.”

“What was that?” she asked when they made it to her car. “Aren’t you upset? I thought you wanted to look for this thing!”

“Oh, I will look for this thing,” he said with a wolfish grin. “We don’t need Dad’s help, not really. He doesn’t know anything new.”

“Alright genius, what’s the plan, then?” She asked after starting the car.

He took a moment to answer, probably trying to create suspense or whatever it was that Josh loved to do. And then:

“Jess, darling, come on. Who is the only other creative person we know who’d disregard anything and anyone just for a good story? Someone with lots of money, who’d probably give everything we asked for if we gave her a new ghost story?”

This time, she was the one who almost crashed their car and exclaimed an incredulous, “Fuck!”


	7. Interlude 2–Fliss

It wasn’t like she loved him.

She _couldn’t_ love him. It’d have made no sense, she told herself. More than once.

They had a great week. When this bunch of rich kids hired her for two weeks of wreck diving, she had no idea what was waiting for her.

The money was good, and she said yes because she needed it. She still had to pay that loan, after all, or they’d take the _Duke_ from her. The math was easy—$176 per day per kid for fourteen days, which would result in $9.856. It wouldn’t pay all the debt, but it’d help _so much._

The first day was filled with excitement for the kids and annoyance for her when they all simply refused to follow any rules at all.

And then there was him. Who’d flirt relentlessly. Honestly, she wasn’t going to make a move, that was never the idea.

It just kind of happened.

At first, it was just a bit of making out.

But on the third day, they somehow found their way to each other’s beds, and then it kept happening again and again _and again._

She kept telling herself she’d stop it, put an end to it before either of them got too attached or whatever. By the start of the second week, she had convinced herself that _maybe _they could keep going. It’d probably be just a summer fling, nothing too much. But it was fun and she honestly enjoyed his company.

And then fucking Olson happened.

No, it wasn’t like that and she knew it. Connie had provoked the man, but how could any of them possibly know what was going to happen?

They couldn’t.

There was a storm and Alex had just asked for Julia to marry him, and everyone was so damn happy. It wasn’t even _her _vacation, but she was enjoying it very much.

And then they were sleeping, once again after having spent some time together, _and then Olson was there too._

And Conrad, stupid, brave Conrad had decided to play hero and escaped the _Duke_ to go look for help.

And he found help.

The coast guard told her so. He found them and they went after her and the others.

Only problem was that when Connie and the coast guard got there, she and the others were long gone.

And he hadn’t come back since then.

Part of her knew, deep in her heart, that he must have found the ship, too. He must still be there, trapped with Olson and the coast guard and _those things—_

And there was nothing she could do but look for him.

Except that fucking ship had disappeared.

And she was left alone, hollow, grieving. Because she couldn’t find him, and with each passing day, his chances of survival kept dwindling.

But she didn’t love him.

_She couldn’t._

She wasn’t the kind of woman who could say she had loved before, not like that, not like—

She just.

Just.

She wasn’t the kind of woman who loved a lot and that was it. And, quite frankly, Conrad never seemed to her like the kind of guy who could say he had loved a partner before either.

And yet, there she was.

Three long months of taking no new clients, of just wandering around the ocean, looking for someone who was probably dead by now.

She had no idea why.

It wasn’t love.

Couldn’t be.

Because if it was—

If it was, she was doomed. With each passing day, Fliss convinced herself more and more that it wasn’t meant to be. _He was probably dead. _But if he wasn’t, if there was the smallest chance Conrad survived, then she simply couldn’t love him.

If he was alive, he’d most likely be traumatized beyond imagination. If he was alive, his family would probably shield him from the world for years, would never allow her to get closer to him.

Not when she was poor, black and older than he was.

It simply wasn’t meant to be, no matter how lovely their moments together had been.

And yet.

And yet she was still here, still looking, still hoping.

Fliss had a feeling Julia knew. That girl, God, she didn’t even like to think about how much she antagonized Julia at first. She supposed, knowing Julia now, that all of that bratty attitude was a defense mechanism to stop people from getting too close, to protect herself.

It had gotten severely worse now, she had noticed. Whenever she spoke to Julia and others were nearby the girl, Fliss would hear her being snappy and defensive.

But not with her. Not anymore.

Whenever they spoke, all Julia offered were soft words and moments of companionship where they’d grieve together.

“They’d have accepted you, you know,” Julia had mentioned once.

“What?”

“My parents. They’d have accepted you.” She could hear the sniffs coming from Julia’s end for a few seconds before the girl continued. “I’d have forced them to if they couldn’t see for themselves how amazing you are.”

It was funny.

Over the last few months, Julia slowly became her best friend. They spoke almost every day, about anything at all. At first, they offered companionship to each other and that was it.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Until it became more than just two girls talking about traumatic events that somehow brought together.

After no more than a couple of weeks, it became a real friendship.

And no matter how many times Julia asked for her to go back to land, she couldn’t.

She wasn’t searching for Conrad just because _she _needed closure, just because she wanted to see him again. She was doing it for Julia too, for her friend, who had lost her brother. Whose world had been shattered.

* * *

It was after a long week of having had no news from Julia at all, that Fliss finally heard from her friend something that sounded promising.

“We have a way to find him!” Julia exclaimed, her voice cheery in a way Fliss hadn’t heard since Alex proposed to the girl before everything went to shit. “Can you bring the _Duke_ back on land, though? We have some guests that can help us, but we’ll need the boat.”


	8. PART 6—Julia

She hugged the daylights out of Fliss the second her friend got down from the _Duke of Milan_.

“Fliss!” she exclaimed, closing her eyes to keep the tears at bay. There were so many people with them now, she couldn’t start crying. “I missed you so, so much!”

Fliss hugged her back just as tightly. “It’s good to see you’re okay, Jules.” A pause as she looked behind Julia to see the others waiting. “I think you forgot to mention just how many people were going to come, you know.”

“Oh.” Julia blushed. “I might have gone a little overboard to make sure this rescue mission was going to be a total success.”

“A little, she says,” Fliss mocked playfully, a smile on her lips.

“Oh, shush!”

Alex and Brad approached them at that moment, Alex giving Fliss a polite hug and Brad simply nodding.

“Hello, boys,” she said. “Been a long time, right?”

“Yeah…” Brad mumbled before gesturing for Junior to come over. “You remember Junior, don’t you?”

Fliss’ eyes flashed dangerously for a second before she sighed. “I do.”

As everyone else approached, Julia introduced each of them to Fliss.

Mike and Sam smiled and shook her hand, and Julia had a feeling her friend was probably going to like them.

Jessica and Josh were next, and Julia was really impressed with Fliss’ nerve when she didn’t stare at Josh’s scars at all. She could tell Jessica was very pleased about that, too.

Becky Marney, the detective, and her husband, Jonathan Finn, came next. Julia wasn’t all that familiar with Finn, and he didn’t touch any of them, not even to shake hands. Becky did hug Fliss, though.

And then there was Chris Hartley, whom Julia hadn’t spoken to at all. He was friends with Josh, from what she could tell, and seemed to be getting along well with Brad, too. He, like Becky, gave Fliss a big hug even though it was pretty obvious they never met before.

And then—

“Aww, so you’re our captain?” Ashley Brown giggled—though she almost looked like she was sneering—as soon as she boarded the boat. “Such a cosy place you’ve got here! I’ve never visited French Polynesia before, so it’s going to be lovely to be here with you. The gang’s together again!”

Julia had read Brown’s book before, after Brad told her about how it was based on something Ashley and her former friends went through. She hadn’t believed him, not completely, because who would do such a thing? Profit off trauma? Besides, nothing about Ashley looked fishy. Now, though? Julia could see, clear as the sky, that Ashley Brown screamed trouble. But she was literally their only hope.

When Josh Washington and Jessica Riley called her and Becky to let them know Ashley would finance the whole trip as long as she could tag along and record whatever she wanted, Julia didn’t think too much of it. After all, she had fought with her parents and didn’t have money at the moment to afford this trip. Josh Washington, the next richest member of the group, said he had nothing either.

So of course she said yes to allowing Ashley to come with them.

Now she was seriously regretting it.

And judging by the vein twitching on Fliss’ neck, her friend wasn’t all that happy either. She grabbed Fliss’ hand and squeezed it. They needed Ashley. It was for Connie. And both of them would do anything for him.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Brown,” Fliss said, releasing a breath. She sounded pissed, but less than she was a second ago. “I hope you know this isn’t a vacation trip, though.”

“Oh, I do!” Ashley grinned. “It’s a rescue mission, isn’t it? This is going to be an awesome plot for my new project, _A Shroud of Innocence. _Don’t worry, I’ll give a copy to you.”

“Thank you,” Fliss said through gritted teeth before dragging Julia away from Ashley. “Tell me I can throw that bitch out of the boat as soon as we’re far away from land.”

Julia smiled, but she felt like it was a very sad smile. “You know you can’t, Fliss. But when everything ends and we’re all together again, we won’t even notice her anymore. Connie will be here!”

“If it all ends up working,” Fliss said, looking down. “If he’s still alive.”

“He’ll be,” she insisted. “I know it. We’re siblings, and I can feel it. He’s alive.”

“I hope you’re right. I hope...we’re not going back there just for a body.” Fliss closed her eyes, looking almost in physical pain. “Even then, though, I guess it’s a good idea. Wouldn’t want him to be alone there, away from everyone. He’d like it if we brought him back.”

“Fliss. Stop it. We’re not going there for his body,” Julia said. “We’re going there _for him_.”

After a tense nod, Fliss left her alone to go take care of the _Duke_ so they could start traveling already. They’d go to the exact place they found the fallen plane the other time, and see what Josh could do from there. Fliss was really skeptical when she told her about the plan, but Julia was confident. They’d do it.

With her mind set, she moved to sit next to Sam and Mike.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, we just aren’t used to being at the sea. It feels like my pregnancy all over again.” She leaned her head against Mike’s shoulder.

“You two could go down there to rest for a bit,” Julia suggested. “I’ll call you if we find anything.”

“That’s a good idea, thank you,” Mike said, helping Sam get up.

After she watched them talk a bit to Fliss and move downstairs, she moved again, coming to sit along with Alex, Brad, Junior and Becky and her husband.

Not a minute later, Josh Washington was suddenly on his feet, staring at all directions with a frown. His eyes lingered on them for a second before moving wildly again. Jessica was behind him, her eyes questioning.

“Something’s not right,” Josh announced, loud and clear.

“What? What happened?” Jessica asked.

“Listen...one. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. _Twelve,_” he said, like that explained everything.

“Twelve what?” Chris asked curiously.

“Heartbeats,” Josh explained. “Twelve heartbeats. That doesn’t make sense. There’s eleven of us here, and I don’t think anyone sneaked here. Something’s not right. Unless...hey, ladies, please don’t hit me, but is there a chance anyone here is, I don’t know, with a kid in the oven?”

“Not me,” Jessica said, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend.

“Me neither,” Julia provided with a blush, though she had to say she was impressed. So it _was_ true. Josh really knew how to do stuff that shouldn’t be possible. “There’s Sam downstairs, but she didn’t say anything about that.”

“Definitely not me,” Fliss said from her place in the cabin. “Although you should know that asking something like that is extremely rude, supernatural abilities or not.”

“It’s not me either, I’m pretty sure,” Ashley said with a shrug.

When everyone had done the math, all eyes fell on Becky, who remained silent. Even when she noticed the stares, all she did was look away.

“Becky?” Jonathan Finn asked slowly, looking at Becky and ignoring all others. “You’re not..._are you?_”

“I don’t know for sure,” she answered after a few seconds. “I was going to tell you...when I knew for sure.”

“Oh, fuck,” Josh said. “I’m so sorry, Detective Marney! I didn’t mean to out you like that, shit, shit, shit. I wish I could turn this thing off.”

Becky nodded at him before going downstairs with Finn trailing behind her.

“Nice one, genius,” Jessica said, elbowing Josh in the ribs.

“I didn’t think anyone would actually be pregnant! It was a joke! Mostly a joke.”

She rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, but Julia and everyone else could only stare, bewildered.

This trip was definitely not going according to the plan.

* * *

That night, Becky and Finn had a screaming match that Julia was pretty sure everyone heard.

“You lied to me!” he exclaimed. “You—you—”

“I never fucking lied to you about a thing,” she snarled back. “You were the one who told me you didn’t want kids, how was I supposed to tell you about this?”

“You were supposed to _just tell me!_” he exploded. “And you were _not _supposed to be here now! This is dangerous! You said it yourself before, we’re facing supernatural shit and you want to barge in there when you are—”

“Come on, say the words! Say it. With all the disdain you can manage.”

“_Fuck._”

And then, there were loads of crying. Their talk became hushed, until there was a yelled, “_Of course I fucking love you!_” from Finn.

After that, there were sounds that Julia definitely didn’t need to hear, and neither did anyone. There were far too many people on a too small boat for that.

But oh well, she could ignore it.

“Do you hear that, Jess? Turns out I didn’t mess things at all!” Josh gloated with a grin. Definitely _not _ignoring the noises. “Seems like I might have done a favor for them, after all.”

In that moment, not only Jessica, but every single lady on board slapped Josh anywhere they could reach.

“You are so disgusting sometimes,” Jessica complained, but she didn’t protest when Josh kissed her lips.

Julia rolled her eyes and snuggled closer into Alex. She felt her heart hurt, though, when she noticed Fliss’ saddened expression. With a pat on Alex’s arm, she got up and moved to go hug her friend.

“We’ll get him back,” she told Fliss. “You’ll get to snuggle all you want,” she added with a playful wink.

Fliss rolled her eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

“I’m absolutely always right.”

“Hey!” Ashley Brown called suddenly. “Why aren’t Emily and Matt here with us?”

Julia could only frown—she had not met Emily Davis and Matthew Taylor, though she knew Becky had spoken with them.

“Em refuses to breathe the same air you do,” Josh provided. “Everyone knows that, Ash.”

Ashley simply sneered before focusing on the notebook in her lap.

”Emily is just babysitting Jackie,” Jessica said, rolling her eyes.

“So, before an awkward silence descends on us and we are forced to try and sleep—and fail, because these moans downstairs don’t look like they’re going to stop any time soon—can anyone please tell me a bit more about the guys we’re looking for? If you have anything that belongs to them around, it’d help a lot.” Josh said, turning to look at Julia and Junior.

Julia had expected something of the sort when she first heard Josh could trace people by their scent, so she had been prepared and brought Connie’s favorite sweatshirt in her bag.

“I...don’t have anything left of my brother,” Junior said, looking away. A second later, Brad moved closer to him and grabbed his hand. It was a sweet show of affection, and the way Junior leaned into Brad without looking embarrassed at all endeared him to Julia a lot. The last time they had been on this boat hadn’t been pleasant for any of them, after all, and yet they managed to form a bond.

“I—” Fliss started before cutting herself and looking around in slight panic. Julia had no idea what her friend wanted to share, but she nodded encouragingly. Fliss looked straight at her when she said, “I kept some of Conrad’s things here.”

_To keep myself company, _she left unsaid.

_To make sure I wouldn’t forget him, _she also left unsaid.

“If they’re both in the same place, then this is already enough.” Josh shrugged. “Can I see it now?”

When Fliss handed him one of Conrad’s ridiculously colorful Hawaiian shirts, Josh took it close to his nose and inhaled deeply.

“Alright,” he said after a moment, returning the shirt to Fliss. “I know his scent now, it’ll be easy to find him if I pick up on it at any moment.” Then he paused and looked thoughtful. “You know, I probably didn’t even need this. His scent is all over you.”

Jessica facepalmed. “Josh, honey,” she said, “we really need to work on your social skills soon.”

* * *

The next morning, they reached the point where they first found the sunken plane.

“Not much farther now,” Junior said and Fliss nodded.

“Only a couple of hours and we should be there,” she said. “_If _the ship is back where it was, that is.”

Becky and Finn were still hidden downstairs, but they seemed to be mostly just talking now. Sam and Mike were down there, too, and so was Alex.

Ashley was busy scribbling something on her notebook while looking at the sea from time to time. She had demanded earlier to see the pics Julia and Alex had taken of the wrecked plane, and seemed to still be busy with whatever she’d do with that info.

While Junior helped Fliss with navigation stuff, she was left with Brad and Chris.

They were apparently having a super nerdy moment where they discussed WWII trivia that honestly made no sense to her.

“After that ship, I kind of want distance from anything related to that war,” she mumbled.

“I hear you!” Chris nodded vigorously. “After Blackwood, I don’t think I’d be able to ever handle skiing again either.”

“Oh! I wanted to ask about that, but I didn’t know if it’d be rude or not…” Brad said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Ask away, man,” Chris said with a shrug. “It’s not like Ash didn’t expose everything already on her book anyway.”

“Oh.” Brad frowned. “I got the book from a library after finding out about you guys on subreddits and damn. It’s all true?”

“In a nutshell? Yep.”

“Damn.”

Chris laughed a bit. “That’s one way to put it. So, what about you?”

“I don’t know for sure what we saw,” Brad said, sounding a bit upset with not having enough knowledge to share. “There were monsters all around us, yeah, but there was also something else. Some documents talking about a secret war project to drive people nuts. So I guess there could no monsters after all, but honestly? I don’t know. I don’t know what I saw, but I saw things that couldn’t be explained simply by science.”

“Secrets and conspiracies, I like it,” Chris said. “Though, what exactly couldn’t be explained?”

“The ship, for starters. It wasn’t there at first. When we first got here, it was nowhere in sight. It showed up when it wanted to. And, uh. According to Fliss, it hasn’t come back yet.”

“_Man!_”

Brad shook his head, a small smile on his face for once. “I know, it’s crazy.”

“You never told me about these documents,” Julia piped in.

“Well, to be one hundred percent honest, I’m still not sure if they were real,” Brad said with another shrug. “I found them, I read them, but did I really? I could’ve made it all up, considering all the other things that weren’t real. So I didn’t think I should mention it.”

“Aw man,” Chris said with a pout. “So the conspiracy could not be real?”

“Yeah…”

“Bummer!”

Julia stopped paying attention to their conversation after that, too lost in her own thoughts.

It made her shiver to think that, secret war weapon or monsters, Conrad could still be there, fighting against it. Alone.

She had to get him back soon. It was all hurting too much to be away from him, from his jokes and silliness and everything else.

She missed her brother so fucking much.

* * *

Later in the night, a storm found them. Just like the other time.

“I can catch his scent now!” Josh proclaimed with a big smile. “And it’s not coming from you, Captain Fliss! He’s definitely nearby.”

The first and last parts of his sentence were so great that neither Julia nor Fliss complained about his crudeness at all.

Connie was nearby!

_Her brother was nearby!_

_She was going to get him back!_

* * *

As it turned out, they shouldn’t have celebrated quite as soon.

The storm kept getting worse and worse, and the closer they got to where Josh declared Conrad’s scent was coming from, the worse the storm got.

It was probably good news, she supposed. Probably meant they really were close.

Until lightning struck the _Duke_, and it just...died. All electrical stuff simply fried.

Fliss was short on money, she had told Julia so, and she had been cutting all sorts of expenses. It seemed like she hadn’t checked the electrical system of the _Duke_ in quite a while.

“Are we stranded?” Ashley screamed over the storm, fighting to be heard.

“Not if we start rowing!” Fliss exclaimed back, prompting everyone to grab whatever they could to row.

* * *

They kept rowing for hours, and the storm showed no signs of going away. Even Becky Marney, now pregnant lady extraordinary, kept rowing nonstop.

“We’re here!” Josh suddenly shouted over the storm. “He’s right here!”

And sure enough, not a second later, the _SS Ourang Medan_ was right in front of them, a coast guard boat abandoned next to it.

Julia couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. Her big brother, her Connie was right here. They did it! They found him.

* * *

They also literally had no way of getting back home, though. The _Duke_ was dead, and after inspecting the coast guard’s boat, they found it had suffered an electrical failure as well. _SS Ourang Medan_ was not fit to sail ever again either, so…

They probably had a big problem in their hands.

Right now, though, they were back on the Duke to decide what to do.

“Let’s go inside and find Conrad and Olson before deciding what to do to get back,” Becky suggested, almost ordered with her authoritative voice. “We have enough provisions to last us for a while, yeah?”

“We do,” Ashley said, proud as a peacock. “I made sure to get as much as food and water as I could.”

“Good,” Becky said with a nod. “We’ll need a radio too, but that’s something that we can consider later.”

“Someone could stay behind and keep all our phones,” Alex suggested. “We only look for a radio if the phones are all really dead.”

“This could work,” Becky agreed. “We might find some signal after a while. At least, I hope so.”

“Marney and I will stay,” Finn announced, speaking for the first time in a while. He said it in a no-nonsense voice. “God forbid we set foot in there right now.”

Becky rolled her eyes at him, but she didn’t say anything. Julia had a feeling they had had a long talk about this before. She wouldn’t get in the middle of whatever they decided.

“Let’s do this!” Julia said, pulling her wet, dripping hair away from her eyes. Sam grabbed her by the arm when the boat shook more violently, and she did her best to steady her friend.

“Thanks,” Sam said, smiling.

They made it out of the _Duke_ together, with all the others following close behind them.

Only Becky and Finn had chosen to stay behind and wait for them on the _Duke_. Everyone agreed, in the end, that it was better this way. _Ourang Medan_ was not the ideal place for Becky right now, and Finn was already too confused and shaken to be put in contact with the weird fog inside the ship. Everyone else had wanted to go inside, so there was no problem anyway.

“Can I ask you something?” Julia whispered to Sam.

“Sure,” she said with a shrug.

“When Josh was rescued..._how _did he survive for so long?”

“I became one of them,” Josh himself answered, though he was still behind them. “That’s why I have wendigo abilities. I was one of them because it was the only way to survive. How come you didn’t connect the dots?”

“I thought…” Julia shivered. “I thought you survived _because _you were already connected to them.”

“Nope,” he answered, completely flippant. “Don’t worry though, there are no wendigos in this ship. I’d have felt them by now if there were. Your brother isn’t like me. Understandable, though, since there’s no one quite as awesome as me.”

She rolled her eyes just for show right then, because she was honestly relieved. Her brother wasn’t a monster. Maybe there weren’t any monsters here, after all.

* * *

She had been relieved way too soon.

No sooner had they gotten inside the ship through the lone open door near the coast guard’s boat, Josh went completely rigid.

There was a large streak of blood on the wall near them. Blood that was much more recent than the stains from the 40s they had found earlier.

She covered her mouth with her hands, because there was no body nearby, so this could mean anything.

As Josh went to sniff it, Sam bent down to pick up a discarded gun.

“It could be useful,” she said.

“Definitely not your brother,” Josh announced at the same time.

Junior frowned. “It could still be mine, though.”

“Yeah, it could…” Josh nodded sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s keep moving,” Junior said.

And so they did.

Funnily enough, they didn’t find any of the bodies that were scattered around the last time.

“This is so fucking weird,” Alex muttered, shaking his head. “I could’ve sworn…”

“There were here, I’m pretty sure,” she told him. “I saw the bodies. Lots of them.”

“We all did,” Fliss said.

“Alright, not creepy at all…” Ashley muttered. “I wish we’d find the bodies, though. It’d make for some good pics.”

“Ashley,” Chris said. “Shut up now.”

She groaned and mumbled, but complied in the end.

* * *

Julia herself was the one to find the first document detailing the “Manchurian Gold” experiments later.

“Fuck,” Chris said. “There _is _a conspiracy, then.”

“Don’t trust anything you see,” Mike said after reading the document as well. “It could all be a trick.”

“No shit, genius,” Fliss said, rolling her eyes. “We were here before, remember?”

Ashley put the document inside her bag hurriedly, stating it was going to help her with “world building.”

The next door they went to open, Mike went ahead, still salty about Fliss apparently.

As he opened the door—

—the first body of the night fell right on top of him.

Samantha Giddings-Munroe acted before anyone else could.

“_Get the fuck away from my husband, you fucker!”_

After she kicked the somewhat rotten body away from Mike and shot it three times, Josh whistled.

“Whoa, Sammy,” he said, smiling widely, almost like a psycho. “I think you just gave everyone here a boner.”

She narrowed her eyes and pointed the gun in his direction. “This gun is still loaded, you know,” she hissed. “And from what I know, you’re still officially dead.”

He raised his arms and shook his head. “Just kidding, just kidding.” Then he added, “You do know that thing is pretty much dead already, though, right?”

“I think that’s when you stop talking, man,” Alex suggested.

Sam frowned, taking a good look at the corpse. “I could’ve sworn I saw...I don’t know.”

“It’s the Manchurian Gold, love,” Mike said, patting her arm.

“My brother is going to be so disappointed,” Junior suddenly blurted. “It’s not gold for real.”

“I can bet it’s worth _a lot_ more than gold, judging by the document we found,” Julia said. “We should get rid of it somehow…”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as throwing it all on the water, though,” Brad said.

“Yeah…”

She’d need to think some more about that—right now, Connie was her top priority.

“Well, right now I think we all could use these bad boys here,” Ashley said, opening the huge bag she had been carrying around. She picked one, two, three..._several _gas masks from inside it, handing one to each member of their group. “Totally useful, right? When you guys said there was a weird mist here, this was my first thought.”

“You could’ve given this to us before we actually got inside the ship!” Fliss accused, though she did put her mask on.

“And where was the fun in the that?” Ashley shrugged. “I needed a good plot twist.”

* * *

They found the rest of the bodies.

Aside from the one that “attacked” Mike, it looked like they were all here.

The sailors.

And several people with uniforms reading “coast guard.” No, not several. Two men and three women, if she was correct. These bodies were beaten and mutilated, so it was hard to be certain.

But no Connie.

And no Olson.

“Fresh kills,” Josh said, gesturing to the coast guard members. “They’re still smelling.”

That was when someone—something—with red, glowing eyes and brandishing what looked like that big hammer Olson carried around the other time jumped from behind the bodies.

“I’ll release the demon tonight,” it said.


	9. Interlude 3— Becky

“This is taking too long,” Becky said after staring at the ship for what felt like hours. 

Something wasn’t right. Something had to be going on.

They should be back by now. She knew it, she knew she should’ve gone with them. 

But no, goddamned Finn wanted to stay behind because he was afraid of what could happen to them. She understood his fear, truly. But maybe now wasn’t the time for paternal instincts?

“They’ll come back when they come back,” Finn said, almost too flippant for her tastes.

“I know you don’t care about any of them, but they’re my clients and—”

“Come fucking on, Marney, when was the last time you ever cared this much about a client? You get a case, you find info to solve the case, you send them on their merry way. Not this.”

“Don’t you think that now isn’t the right time for this discussion, Johnny?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, not taking her eyes away from _SS Ourang Medan_.

The storm still hadn’t relented, and they still hadn’t gotten any signal on any of their phones.

“No, this is the perfect time. We’re going to be sitting here for a lot more time, so why the hell not?”

“Finn,” she said sternly, finally turning to look at him. “This case is completely different and you know it. This is life or death. And I promised to help them.”

“What about me, though? What about our kid?” his tone, so broken and yet accusatory, made her grit her teeth.

“You didn’t even want this kid,” she reminded him. “And you came with me because you wanted to.”

“Because I _love _you!” Finn yelled on her face, leaving Becky completely speechless. “Yeah, I needed some time to process, but fuck Becky, of course I love you and the kid. How could I not? I just—after Adam, how can I trust anyone? Anyone but you?”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes at his speech, and Becky couldn’t help but take his hands between hers.

“Adam is not here anymore,” she told him in a whisper. “He’ll never be here again. But me? I am. Our kid is. And these kids inside this ship, they’re here too. And they needed help. They still need help.”

“They aren’t family,” he insisted.

Becky squeezed her eyes shut as memories of Jackie Giddings-Munroe flooded her brain.

“No, they aren’t,” she agreed. “But they have families, too. Little kids. And Finn, think about it. If you love our kid already, you know they’re going to grow up one day. And they might need strangers to help them at some point. What if it was our kid inside this ship? Wouldn’t you want for someone to help them?”

“Fuck, Marney.”

“Wouldn’t you, Finn?”

“Yes,” he finally breathed out, tears leaking from his own eyes. “Yes.”

“Good.” Becky smiled. “Now, we’re going to wait until we find some signal, and as soon as we send a call for help, we are going to get inside that ship to help these kids.”

Suddenly, before Finn could say anything else, there was a beeping sound coming from one of the phones with them.

“Oh, fuck me,” Becky muttered when she saw whose phone it was.

Ashley Brown’s literary agent was calling her.

Goddamnit, she wanted to call the Blackwood survivors’ friend, Emily Davis, but it was very unlikely that Emily would pick up Ashley’s call.

She was going to try anyway.

But first, it seemed like Finn was going to get an earful from Ashley’s agent, because the silly man decided to pick up the call.

Becky wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or facepalm herself.


	10. PART 7—Conrad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be obvious by now because of Julia's chapter, but I'm also following the "demonic Olson" ending here, because that ending is SO fascinating.

Three women and two men. Those were the members of the team the coast guard sent with him to rescue his family and friends. Conrad couldn’t say he truly met any of them for real, though.

He briefly spoke to them on their way to the site where he knew the _Duke of Milan_ was supposed to be, and that was it.

That was actually when all the problems started, if he was honest with himself.

He should never have just gotten inside the creepy ship when a creepy door opened on its own, groaning. It all yelled, _“no, nope, don’t do this, it’s going to be the worst choice of your life” _but still, he went ahead.

If there was any chance Julia was inside the creepy ship, he’d close his eyes and do whatever he had to do to find her.

Well.

Not only Jules, of course. He was going in there to find the spitfire that was their captain, Fliss, too. He...missed her. It was a weird feeling, missing someone who was virtually a stranger a few weeks ago, but there it was.

Well, whatever. He’d think more about the weird feelings after it was all said and done and they got back home. Man, he was going to have a blast showing America to Fliss. They’d go to his parents’ house in Massachusetts and they’d have the time of their lives.

Preferably without pirates interrupting them when things had just gotten good.

_Weeeeeeeell._

That was the original plan, but Conrad should’ve known by now that nothing ever went according to the plan when he was concerned.

No, nope, nope.

Barely a few hours after him and the coast guard had gotten inside, things took a turn for the worse.

Or the _creepier._

The two older guys were the first to go, shooting each other right in front of Conrad’s eyes after they opened that weird casket with the weird two-headed-skeleton-thing.

They were lucky to have brought enough ration on the boat, he learned after that.

After the guys killed themselves, him, the women and the remaining guy tried to go back to the boat. It wouldn’t budge. They said it was an electrical failure and there was nothing they could do.

They had rations to last for a few weeks. Longer, if anyone else died.

And guess what happened?

As soon as they got inside, the remaining guy and one of the ladies died.

Conrad and the lone lady found the documents on the Manchurian Gold by the end of the first week. They tried to stay away from any sort of fog or mist coming from inside the ship, but they couldn’t stay outside forever.

When they got back the next time, they found the book.

Satanic shit, detailing a ritual where a demon would come free after three women and two men were sacrificed on the ship. For the demon to go away, they’d need more three women and two guys to perform another ritual.

They didn’t exactly believe it, but they were scared as fuck.

For some reason, he kept a few pages with him.

* * *

_“...know it is important to the Sorcerer and the spiritual wellbeing of his Flock that before the Faestival of Akrammahamari can begin, the ritual of Threskeia is performed to went-away Demons and unwholesome Spirits by means of Cabal._

_Cabal should silently assemble, and contain no more or fewer than five true individuals of sound Mind and Spirit. It should number three female and two male, first-born, faces obscured with hood. The Pentacle shall be drawn out, and each Member shall stand at each of the five Primary Points. A lady borne of the seas shall rendered unconscious and placed at the centre of the Pentacle. It is from there that the Assembled should recite the Incantation of Soras, sword in hand, with all exaltation possible, as is written:_

_We five stand at the furthermost point; we are yet close enough to touch._

_The five-starred symbol is with great power._

_Turning 90 degrees to your right, use the sword to describe the Unicursal Amulet of Be-wah-or, and shout_

_THE PENTACLE IS FAITH._

_Turn to face South, thrust the sword forward and using a low, steady voice, say_

_THE PENTACLE IS REVERENCE._

_Turn a further 90 degrees to your right, use the sword to describe the Ocuvenal Sigil, the sacred symbol that constitutes the Final Seal before the Act can be Finalised. With reverence, recite_

_THE PENTACLE IS CHURCH._

_Finally, turn to face North, thrust the sword forward and with exaltation exclaim_

_THE PENTACLE IS SACRIFICE._

_...each member takes a step forward, and then is still in the stance of Kee-tho-ram. Recite in Unison:_

_We are one, and Soras is our Lord. O Soras, with this Sacrifice we ask You to cleanse our aura, to rid us of the Demons that plague us._

_We spill the life of Man in Your honor, that we may prove ourselves worthy of Your trust._

_Only when the incantation is complete should the five converge upon the Sacrifice and, swords drawn, each Member should in turn use it to rid the Body of its Unclean Blood._

_The Body should be transferred to a casket of thick wood, with head accessible by your Flock at any time as a reminder of the evil that can infect the unwary, and the unswerving power of Soras to keep all safe._

_And so the ritual of Threskeia will be complete, and no longer should your Flock be troubled by unwelcome spirits.”_

* * *

And then—

—she died. The remaining woman just died. If he had to guess, he'd say it was a heart attack.

He ditched the pages then, because what the actual fuck, right?

And that was when things turned _really _shitty for him.

He had stumbled on Olson before, dead in the kitchens, that pirate guy who threatened them all before.

The guy was dead.

_Dead._

And yet, Conrad found him again later, walking around the ship, carrying a big ass hammer and mumbling about needing “more souls.”

Did he mention the guy now had glowing red eyes?

Oh, yeah, he did.

Conrad was scared shitless, and he did his absolute best to stay away from the guy’s way, because uh, he was probably the only other remaining “soul” here.

It became easier when he found an old gas mask on one of the corpses around the ship, because then at least he wasn’t always affected by the Manchurian Gold while he sneaked around to evade Olson _and _find food and water.

* * *

Life was pretty shitty.

But it got a little shittier the day—he had no idea how much time had passed, all he knew was that his food supply was getting smaller and smaller and it wouldn’t take long for him to starve—his gas mask stopped working properly.

Even though he tried to be outside most of the time, sometimes Olson or the demon-thing possessing him or whatever went outside as well, and Conrad was forced to go hide inside.

He knew it was all the Manchurian Gold, he did.

But that didn’t mean the visions didn’t try to drive him to a breaking point.

And if he was honest, they almost succeeded most of the time.

Sometimes it was Jules, wandering around being falling from a ledge and breaking her neck.

Sometimes, she’d turn into a monstrous thing and try to grab him or something.

Other times, though, it was his Fliss.

(He had no idea when he started thinking about her as “his Fliss,” but he supposed that he’d get a pass considering his near insanity.)

Fliss, who’d always start looking the exact way he remembered her. Or the way he thought he remembered her. She’d be dressed in summer clothes, or she’d be wearing one of the fancy dresses his mom loved when she was throwing parties.

Either way, it would never last. She’d morph just like Jules, and soon he’d be running for his life.

When his head cleared, he would wonder if he was actually running from Olson those times and imagining his girls, but that was something he’d probably never know.

(He didn’t exactly want to face either Demonic Olson or the girls looking like monsters, so running was always a win-win situation.)

* * *

When the food ended, he started eating the rats.

It made things a little harder, since the rats were always inside and getting them without the gas mask was kinda tricky.

Conrad did what he had to do.

He survived.

He wondered if he should have kept going for so long, though, if it wouldn’t be better if he just stopped trying. It was clear that no one was coming. He had been left behind, and he told himself he could live with that.

Or die with that, anyway.

* * *

When he was lucid enough to think, he’d imagine Jules and Fliss coming for him, waving their arms wildly from a boat, huge smiles on their faces.

“We missed you so much,” they’d say.

“We love you so much,” they’d say.

The daydreams always ended when he tried to touch either of them, though.

God, he was so touch-starved at this point, it was ridiculous.

Nonetheless, it kept him going.

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night—ha!—when he thought he finally lost it. He was outside, had just gotten outside, when he noticed a new boat resting near the ship.

It was the _Duke of Milan_.

It couldn’t be, but it was.

He decided to say fuck it, and went towards the _Duke_, desperate. He hoped that, this time, his illusion would allow him to believe he could touch his girls. He needed it, at least one more time, before he could die in peace.

Imagine his surprise, though, when he got inside the _Duke_ and was promptly socked in the eye by a tall, slender man with a shaved head.

He got his wish, he supposed. He felt someone touching him. It just wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

“Finn!” A woman yelled, coming from behind the man to help him get up from the floor. And she was definitely touching him, too. “What the fuck! Are you alright?”

That last question seemed to be directed at him.

Conrad opened his mouth, but no sound came at first. Oh. Yeah, that’s what happens when you stay quiet for so long.

Finally, after a few tries, he managed a weak, “You’re not Fliss or Jules.”

“No,” the woman said, her voice gentle.

“Am I dead?”

“Not yet, sweetheart,” she told him, brushing his hair from his forehead. Huh. His hair seemed so long now. And he apparently had a beard, too. A second later, the woman glared at the aggressive man. “How about not hitting the guy we came to rescue next time, Johnny?”

“How was I was supposed to know?” The man—Johnny?—threw his arms up in frustration. “If God can forgive, so can he.”

The gentle woman rolled her eyes before focusing on Conrad once again.

“You’re Conrad, aren’t you?” she asked. “Julia’s brother?”

“Jules,” he managed to croak out, nodding. “Miss Jules.”

“Oh,” the woman said, eyes full of pity. He didn’t like it, but it was so much better than what the Manchurian Gold had been showing him. “She misses you, too.”

“Where is she?” he asked.

The woman frowned. “Inside. She’s looking for you right now.”

“No!” He found strength when he thought he had none anymore to jump and sit up straight. “The Manchurian Gold, she can’t breathe it! And—and—and—” he tried to explain, but he had a coughing fit.

“Take it easy,” the woman instructed. “Come on, Julia will come back soon.”

“Olson!” he finally said. “Olson is there! He wants more souls! He’ll kill Jules!”

“Oh, fuck,” Johnny said. “Stay with him, Becky. I’ll go inside and get them back.”

“No,” Conrad insisted. “Olson is...not Olson. Three women and two men. A sacrifice. He’s something else now. Demon.” His words were stuttered, and he wasn’t even sure if he was making sense, but they had to know.

“Finn,” the woman, Becky, said. Her eyes pleaded with the man.

“I’ll go get them back,” he repeated. “You wait for Emily here. Alright?”

“Alright,” she said. “Be careful, okay?”

Finn or Johnny or whatever his name was, nodded to Becky before running inside the ship. On his own. Right after Conrad warned him about the dangers inside.

“It’ll be okay,” Becky assured him, her voice sounding oddly lulling.

It took him a few moments to notice he was passing out.

“Miss Jules, miss Fliss,” was the last thing he remembered saying before everything went black.

* * *

When he woke up, too many people seemed to be talking all at once.

He saw the man, Johnny/Finn/Whatever first. He was bloodied, had a big cut on his face. But he seemed to still be alive, even though he looked shook.

And then, behind the man—

—was Julia.

His sister.

His Julia.

She was real.

And when she noticed his open eyes, she ran to him, almost tackling him with her bear hug.

“Connie!” she pretty much yelled on his ears. “You’re here, oh my God, it’s really you, you’re here!”

“Jules,” he whispered against her hair, crying because _he was touching her and she wasn’t disappearing and it was all real._

“I missed you so much,” she told him. “And I love you so much, dingus. Can’t believe you risked yourself like that!”

“Love you, too,” he told her, suddenly feeling tired again.

“Hold on,” she said. “Before you go to sleep, there’s someone else that wants to see you.”

And as she moved aside to allow him a better look around the quarters he was currently in, he saw _her_.

Fliss.

It couldn’t be, could it?

He learned that yes, it could, when Fliss followed on Jules’ footsteps and hugged him as tightly as she could. Instead of stopping there, though, she gently cupped his face and kissed him, full on the lips.

“You’re alive,” she said, her eyes glassy with tears.

“You’re real,” he told her.

“I am,” Fliss said. “I’m here, Connie. I’m here and I’m never going away again, I promise.”

When she kissed him for a second time and he felt it all, all her touches, it was enough to drive him to tears.

No, to a full-on sob fest.

What could he say? He did know he was touch-starved.

This time, before blacking out, he remembered saying, “Love you, Fliss.”


	11. PART 8—Ashley

It was all supposed to be one big, amazing adventure.

A perfect plot for her new book.

But no. She knew, of course she knew, that it’d end up being much more than that. Not that an actual “frightfest” was what she was expecting, though.

Actually, Ashley didn’t really know what she expected. She was happy when the guys invited her to come along, even if they did it because she was the only one with enough money at the moment. Even if they all whispered “bitch” to each other when talking about her.

And of course, _of course _that when the big guy with the big hammer and the glowing eyes spotted them, he came for her first. He didn’t hit her with the hammer, but he grabbed her by the throat and threw her across the room.

If she hadn’t hit her head so forcefully against the crate behind her, she’d have found delight in the scared, worried yells of, “Ash!” coming from all of her former friends, not just from Chris.

But her head hurt too much for that.

Her gas mask seemed to have been broken by the impact, too.

She felt dizzy, even in her panic, and tried to grab the crate to steady herself enough so she could actually get up from the ground.

The wooden board covering the crate slipped on that moment, revealing large bags with dark letters announcing “Manchurian Gold.”

_Fuck._

The documents were still in her bag, but she had eyed them enough times to know what she was seeing. Manchurian Gold, the chemical weapon. Lots and lots of it.

And then—

Then she heard the screeches.

Those awful sounds that still crept in her nightmares from time to time, the sounds that used to come from Hannah’s mouth before they blew her up.

It didn’t take long for Hannah herself—well, her wendigo self—to be seen on the walls, so many walls at the same time. Like there were several Hannah's, all of them focused on her, screeching on her face.

Ashley knew, deep down, that it wasn’t real. She had proof that it wasn’t.

But fuck.

It felt real, and it—

It—

It had been real once.

She might have been stoned and completely out of her mind, but she knew it. She had just buried it deep, deep down. Now, staring at the wendigo once again, hearing it—

It was too fucking much.

It was like all the memories were coming back at once, all of them accompanied by the sounds and smells and sensations that had been part of the full experience once.

Her heart was beating so fast, too, she could almost hear it, even in the cacophony that was the sound of multiple wendigo screeches at the same time.

_It wasn’t real now, but it had once been._

Ashley managed to regain control of her senses when someone else—Mike, it seemed—was thrown across the room as well. The noise his body made when hitting metal was enough to shatter her focus on the wendigos, and she wasn’t really surprised to see them disappear after that.

_It wasn’t real now, but it had once been._

Still, whatever was happening now, they had to do something quick before it escalated too much more.

“I need the souls of firstborns,” the big guy said, his eyes examining each one of them carefully.

In the background, she heard Josh growiling, snarling, almost screeching. It was probably the after effects of the Manchurian Gold, but Ashley could swear she saw morphing into a wendigo. He didn't pounce, though, seemingly restrained by an invisible force.

“Brother, stop!” One of the guys on their side—Junior, his name was, Ashley’s foggy brain recalled—called out, putting himself between the guy and everyone else. “This isn’t you! You want gold, don’t you? These people don’t have it! Let them go!”

Maybe they had been brothers once upon a time, but the big guy didn’t waste a second before grabbing Junior by the neck, holding him up, up, up. His feet dangled as he struggled to breathe.

“You are no firstborn,” the man declared with a sneer. “Sornas need firstborns only.”

“Don’t touch him!” Someone else—Brad, the guy with the glasses, her brain provided—shouted, running towards the man, ready to apparently tackle him to the ground.

It didn’t cause the big guy to even flinch when Brad collided against him, but it was enough distraction for him to let Junior’s neck loose.

When the big guy looked at them, he barely made an effort in kicking them away swiftly.

“No firstborns, not useful,” he told them.

So many things happened at once then, it was a wonder her hurting head managed to catch it all.

Out of no fucking where, Jonathan Finn came running, and along with Alex, they managed to successfully tackle the big guy.

Although, almost immediately, the guy grabbed his hammer and slammed it into Finn, causing a lot of blood to explode from his side and right arm, splashing on his face. Alex practically threw himself on top of Finn and rolled them both to the side when the big guy slammed his hammer again.

Julia, Mike and Fliss made their way up some stairs, right on the side of a huge cabin near a big gate or door or whatever.

Sam chose that moment to shoot the big guy on the leg. “Stay the fuck away from us!”

“No! Olson!” Junior yelled from his place on the ground, though Brad grabbed him by the middle to stop him from doing anything.

That was when Ashley noticed Olson—that was apparently the big guy’s name—was exactly under the big door.

“Mike!” Sam yelled, still keeping her gun trained on Olson. “Now! Do it now!”

And then things got even faster, if that was possible.

“Get the fuck away, Sam!” Mike yelled before turning to do whatever Sam wanted.

Ashley, once again a mere spectator, just like she was in Blackwood, understood their plan a second before it happened. They were going to split Olson in a half by closing the door.

It’d have been a good plan, had Olson not grabbed Sam by the ankle. Ashley heard Josh growling from the distance once again, and she saw Jessica holding him back because he was too far away and could never reach Sam in time.

Ashley, though, was much closer. She didn’t even need to move that much. She was dizzy, but she could do this.

She could atone for she had done years ago. For what she _hadn’t _done, too.

And so, before the door could fall and split _Sam_ in a half, Ashley grabbed her with as much strength as she could and yanked until Olson let go of her friend.

As it turned out, her efforts saved Sam, but they also made her stumble and fall.

Right under the door.

She had no time to get away, so she simply closed her eyes and waited.

* * *

There was an awful snapping sound at first, and then a cacophony of “no!” coming from everyone along with some retching. The next thing she noticed was that her bag seemed to be in perfect condition, which meant the others would be able to leave with proof about this place.

But _then_—

Then, when she noticed her bag, she also noticed her body.

Her now empty, bloodied body. Or the half of it that she could see from this angle anyway.

At least Olson was dead too, and she saw the exact moment his eyes stopped glowing red.

The exact moment something equally as red crawled from inside of his body, escaping it through his now severed upper half.

All the others seemed completely oblivious to her, the thing, and now Olson himself, as he got up and left his own body to stare at her in bewilderment.

They were dead. They were deaddeaddead.

“I’m so sorry,” Olson suddenly said, turning to look at Ashley with huge, normal eyes. Except for the blind one, that is. “I-I didn’t mean—”

She sighed. “Oh my God, what are we gonna do now? Oh my, God.”

_“Pathetic, both of you,”_ the thing, the monstrous thing that left Olson’s body hissed._ “You invited me by killing people, and now you wanted to get rid of me. Pathetic. I am Lord Sornas, and you cannot stop me after you’ve invited me.”_

“Go away!” Ashley yelled at it. “Go the fuck away!”

_“Why should I, when there are so many suitable new hosts here?” _it snarled at her before setting its glowing eyes on Josh. _“Look at this one, such perfect condition. Already tainted by another, but extremely fit to be my new host.”_

After a pause, it turned to Junior, who was sobbing on the ground while holding what was left of Olson’s body.

_“This one could work just as well, a mind and a heart broken beyond repair, ready to obey me.”_

“You will _not _touch my brother,” Olson told it, fury overtaking his face. A very human-like fury this time, though. Olson turned to Ashley and said, “Help the others get away from here, I’ll distract it!”

_“You cannot fight me,” _it taunted. _“They might escape now, but there’s always going to be someone else.”_

As Olson tried to fight the demon or whatever the heck it was, Ashley tried to put her newly-acquired Poltergeist abilities to open doors for her friends so they could get away from this cursed place before Sornas tried something. It was ridiculously hard, but she managed after a few tries.

It took them a moment to figure what she was trying to do, but Josh was quicker. She always had a feeling he was more connected to spirits since Blackwood, and now she had the chance to see that yes, she was right.

“Don’t forget my bag!” She yelled at Josh, hoping he’d understand it. He did, though he stared at the place Olson was struggling with Sornas for a moment too long before grabbing the bag.

As they moved and finally found the outside of the ship, where the storm had finally subsided, Josh turned to salute her one final time.

“Take care of Chris for me, alright?” She whispered to him, making him nod to her before helping Jess up a ladder.

Chris looked terribly heartbroken, tears streaming down his cheeks, and she wanted to hug him so badly. She tried, but nothing happened.

“Oh, Chris…” she whispered to him. “I’m so sorry. I had to do this. I’m so sorry, I just had to. You’ll be okay, right? You will, right?”

“Ash…” he moaned, his tears flowing freely. She could pretend, for a second, that he could actually see her. “No…”

“She died for me,” Sam suddenly said, her own eyes glassy with tears. “She did it for me.”

Mike hugged Sam, while Josh and Jess went wrapped their arms around Chris tightly.

In another corner, Junior hugged his knees to his chest, shaking his head and crying silently. Olson’s brother. Her heart hurt for him, but she managed a small smile when Brad and Alex hugged him.

Meanwhile, Julia and Fliss were speaking in hushed whispers with Finn.

“What do you mean, you found Conrad?” Fliss was saying, her eyes wide and hopeful.

It gave hope to Ashley as well, that maybe this whole rescue mission hadn’t been for nothing. Maybe someone would still be happy.

“Where is he? Where’s my brother?” Julia asked frantically.

“He’s on the _Duke_, resting,” Finn said, poking his bloodied arm. “Marney is with him.”

Both girls hugged Finn before running towards the Duke, happy smiles on their faces.

With a relieved sigh, Ashley turned to look up as a helicopter approached the ship.

When it landed, Emily of all the people jumped from it.

“Did someone request Emily’s rescuing services?” she asked with a grin.

Ashley couldn’t help but grin as well. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to go with them, but they’d be okay. Chris would be okay. And, most importantly, Jackie would still have her mother.

After they left, Olson showed up by her side.

“Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more,” she whispered to him, feeling...broken.

“What?”

“Virginia Woolf,” Ashley said with a small smile. “My favorite.”

“I’ve always been told that if you die on a ship, your ghost stays on the ship,” he told her sadly. “Maybe It could be wrong.”

“Oh, it’s definitely wrong!” Someone else piped cheerfully from behind them. When they turned around, Ashley almost died a second time to see it was Hannah and Beth Washington there, laughing and smiling. Hannah continued, “What? You didn’t think we’d let you here, did you?”

“Come on!” Beth smiled. “You can come too, Mr. Olson. We’re friends of Ashley’s.”

And when they took the twins’ hands, all Ashley felt was peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knooow, it’s terrible that she had to die.
> 
> When I first started outlining this story, this wasn’t supposed to be how everything happened at all. But Ashley grew on me, and she grew a lot as a character in this story, too. I felt like it was...poetic to give her this end, when she’s finally coming to terms with everything that happened in Blackwood and being so overwhelmed by it that she simply couldn’t live with the memories anymore—thus, she decided to sacrifice her life to save someone she saw as being more worthy. 
> 
> Was it a good choice? I don’t know. Would it still have happened if she had come to terms with her trauma earlier? I don’t know. When I first played Until Dawn, I didn’t really like Ashley a lot. After playing other times, I realized that I disliked her because she acted exactly how I’d have acted in a similar situation of fear. Recklessly, impulsively, sometimes even selfishly.
> 
> We all like to believe we’d brave and strong like Sam or cunning and resourceful like Emily, but...that’s not how I’d have been, and I know it. Realizing this made me respect Ashley a lot more, and this made me feel like she deserved to be greater in this story, to be brave and resourceful and kindhearted.


	12. Interlude 4–Josh

He wasn’t sure what had hurt more. Seeing Ashley die right in front of him _and then _seeing her ghost as she kept trying to help or seeing the ghost of that man.

He knew he’d never be normal again after the Makkapitew. But he’d never seen fucking evil spirits _crawling out of a guy _before. He wondered, for a hot second, if Jess had somehow seen the moment the Makkapitew left his body. He really hoped she hadn’t, because if it was anything like what he saw with Olson and that demon, geez.

And that man, just looking at him had hurt Josh deeply. He saw himself there, just a shell of a human being possessed by something evil that wanted to go around wreaking havoc for whatever reason.

And that man died.

They killed him.

He knew it could’ve been him. If Jess hadn’t found him, hadn’t done absolutely everything she did, it _would _have been him.

Just another monster to be slain. _Just another goddamned freaking monster in this world._

And Ashley, fuck, _Ashley_. The girl they spent so long hating, gone. Just like that.

Chris was destroyed and refused to talk to absolutely anyone on their ride back home.

_Home._

Josh wondered, not for the first time, if there was ever going to be such a thing as home for Chris now that Ash was gone.

His head was hurting so much, too. He needed to sleep. Looking at that demon had drained everything in him. It was so odd, when he tried to approach Olson before Sam and Mike killed him, he couldn’t do it. It was like something unseen was physically stopping him from doing so.

It was most likely the demon. He knew that. But dammit, he was tired. He hardly did a thing aside from tracking, and he felt dead.

Jess leaned her head against his shoulders.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he told her, forcing a smile for her sake. She had been right in not wanting to come here, but Josh still felt like they had somehow done the right thing. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.”

“Just try to get some sleep,” she instructed. “If I’m right, your sight is going to go to shit soon anyway. It didn’t happen today yet, and you know it gets worse when you strain yourself.”

Just as the words left her mouth, almost like magic, Josh felt his eyes getting blurred until he couldn’t properly see anything surrounding them besides movement.

God, he hated that. So. Fucking. Much.

“I’ll sleep,” he mumbled to Jess, closing his eyes and hoping that they’d be back to normal the next time he opened them.


	13. Interlude 5–Junior

It had been several weeks since he had been living with the Smiths, and it never stopped being awkward. He felt truly comfortable around Brad, but the others? No, the others creeped him out with their stares—sometimes curious, sometimes angry, sometimes pitying.

He fucking tried to kidnap them all—okay, granted, that wasn’t the plan until his brother decided it was. He never wanted to hurt anyone, he didn’t even want to rob them. He was a bloody fisherman, not some kind of criminal. But no, his brother had to drag them into this. Had to decide they could make some easy money and get revenge on the bratty kids they stumbled upon.

And then Olson had to go and take them to _SS Ourang Medan_, and even though Junior told him again and again that the place was wrong and reeked of death and bad things, his brother insisted.

He was a sole survivor then, his brother and Danny being left behind.

He had never been alone in his whole life, not when he was the younger brother. He never thought he’d have to be alone. But then again, he never thought he’d become a kidnapper.

He hadn’t had much study, didn’t know fancy words like the Smiths and the blond girl did. But he heard them talk, and he was smart enough to search for the meaning of their words. Stockholm Syndrome, that was they told Brad, Alex stressing that he couldn’t possibly be friends with Junior.

Stockholm Syndrome, meaning when you grow fond of the person who kidnapped you.

Maybe it was an apt description. Maybe that was it all it was.

But Brad was good to him, and that mattered the most to him. He never had friends of his own—it was always his brother and his brother’s friends. This time, this was _his _friend.

His friend, who invited him over, who gave him a home and food and chatted with him all the time about whatever they felt like chatting. Most of the time they avoided anything related to _SS Ourang Medan_, but after a while Brad told him about how he figured the location of the lost ship.

He promised to help Brad learn how to properly swim and promised to take him to go fishing. It was like...they were getting to know each other’s worlds, little by little.

And it worked.

It worked.

With time, Junior didn’t just look at Brad as his friend. With time, he looked at Brad like the guy was everything he had in this life, because he honestly was.

Alex and Julia didn’t like him, and he was pretty sure they never would. They also didn’t confront him or were outright hostile, so it was fine by him. He didn’t need their company as much as he needed Brad’s.

And now.

Now they were back.

After going back to _SS Ourang Medan_, after seeing his brother die. Now, now there was no hope for Olson. Junior had hoped before. Hoped against all hope. Now it was gone, just like Olson was.

One of the rich kids, the one with the helicopter, Emily, had allowed the others to go back one more time to recover the bodies of his brother and the redhead, Ashley.

There was going to be a funeral now.

He wouldn’t mourn and live with hope, he would just be allowed to say a proper goodbye and that was it.

The days leading up to the funerals, he didn’t want anyone near him. Couldn’t stand to be in the presence of another human being for fear of either lashing out or fighting unnecessarily.

He saw the others sometimes as they mulled around the house, making small talk with each other.

Conrad, Julia’s brother, was recovering slowly. But he _was _recovering and would be good again one day. Julia spent a lot less time with the Smiths now, preferring to be with her brother in case he needed anything. Junior couldn’t say he blamed her—if they had managed to bring Olson back, he’d have spent time with him, too.

He heard about the captain sometimes, too. She was almost always glued to either Julia’s or Conrad’s hips. She seemed happy with the results, because she could be with the guy she apparently loved again. Junior couldn’t blame her for being happy either.

The detective, Becky Marney, tried to talk to him more than once. She had a gentle air around her, always offering kind words of comfort to him. He didn’t want to see her, though. He didn’t blame her for anything, but he didn’t want to talk to her again.

And then there was Brad.

Brad, his friend, his first and only friend, who knocked on his door the day they were supposed to bury Olson.

“Are you doing okay?” Brad asked, fidgeting with his hands, not really making eye contact with Junior.

“No,” Junior asked truthfully.

“I’m really sorry about your brother,” he said. “If we could’ve done things any differently, if there was a way…”

“There isn’t.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this to you, but there’s a cool theory I believe,” Brad said, finally turning to look at him for a second. “Multiverses. Multiple universes. Like, there are countless versions of me and you and everyone else in several other universes. Maybe things are better in some of them, but maybe things could be worse. I believe that, in one of these universes, there’s a version of us that managed to save Olson and bring him back. One where everyone is absolutely happy.” Brad sighed, looking at him again and, after looking doubtful for a second, grabbing Junior’s hand between his. “We can’t live in that universe, but we can do whatever is possible to make this universe, this one right here, a good one. You know?”

Junior stared at him for a moment, thinking.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “I know. Thank you.”

“For what, man? I’m just being a good friend.”

“For that. Being my friend when you didn’t have to.” Junior squeezed Brad’s hand, his heart going crazy in his ribcage. “No one else would have done this for me.”

“Luckily for you, there’s probably a Brad in every single universe to be there for every single Junior,” he said with a small chuckle, turning his head down.

In that moment, Junior felt the overwhelming urge to just turn around and kiss his friend. Kiss Brad, right then and right there.

* * *

And so he did.

* * *

Later in the day, when they lowered Olson to the ground, he kept Brad’s fingers intertwined with his own, and that gave him strength.

Strength to, perhaps, move on one day.


	14. PART 9—Finn, 2020

The first time he heard Becky talking about Samantha Giddings-Munroe and her husband, Michael, Finn hated them.

hated them with the same certainty he had hated adam

How dare any of them slam a door on his Becky,

tell her to go away or else they’d call the cops?

How dare any of them not to recognize that she was brilliant

perfect in every way.

When he actually met the duo on their French Polynesia trip—

he wanted to forget that day so badly

so badly

His arm and side still hurt, though Becky called them his

“battle scars”

but the worse was having seen adam’s face again, sneering and laughing at him

stupid hallucinogen, he was sure to never use drugs again after that day—

Point is. When he actually met Samantha and Michael, Finn envied them.

They had everything

and so much more

And they were happy.

But then, when he met them during Ashley Brown’s wake, he also met their little one.

a special kid, for sure

little girl barely could understand what was going on, but she offered bear hugs to everyone in the wake 

—including Finn himself.

He got to know them better after that.

Actually—

—him and Becky went to the two for advice concerning their own little one, since neither of them had much experience.

He kept meeting with them afterwards.

Samantha and Becky would hang out together a lot, discussing baby and lady things that were apparently a secret from him.

Michael eventually took pity on him.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said. “Sam gets a little carried away when she’s excited, and it seems like Detective Marney does, too. They’ll tell us whatever they decide when they want.”

“Daddy’s right,” young Jackie announced from her place between them both. “Mommy look very exc-excit-ed.”

Finn couldn’t help but laugh.

* * *

Eventually, Becky and Samantha told him what all that secrecy was about.

They had been talking about the baby, and Becky had been really happy ever since they figured out it was going to be a little girl.

—his little girl…

He couldn’t help but dream about her every day, wondering what she’d look like, sound like, smell like.

would she even like _him?_

she’d love Becky for sure, but him? He couldn’t tell.

“We were looking for someone to knit things for her,” Becky told him. “And I wanted to include her name on them. So I thought...could we call her Ashley? I know you loved Brown’s book, and I wanted to honor her memory. Because of that day. I wanted to give her your name, too. Ashley Finn. It sounds good, doesn’t it?”

He kissed Becky right then—

—because everything was perfect.

* * *

Their apartment became full of girls almost every single day after that.

It was, quite frankly, ridiculous.

(Finn would never say it out loud, though

most of these girls scared the heck out of him)

They decided they could all use Becky’s place to plot their next moves, aka how to decorate little Ashley’s nursery and how they should plan Julia’s upcoming wedding.

He was allowed to butt in when it was about Ashley, just like Alex Smith was allowed to be around when it was about his and Julia’s wedding.

But that was it

because if anyone else tried to butt in at the wrong moments, the girls showed them why Finn thought they were scary.

He learned to like them all, though.

Loud-mouthed Julia,

Hotheaded Emily,

Badass Jessica,

Spitfire Fliss,

and Know-It-All Sam.

He started to invite the men over after a while, too.

Cocky Michael,

Nerdy Brad,

Quiet Junior,

Serious Alex,

Nerdier Chris,

Flirty Conrad (Finn wasn’t exactly fond of the moments the man acted like that near Becky, but he supposed he could be quiet about it since he did punch Conrad earlier. Accidentally.),

and, of course, the weirdest of them all, Ex-Monster Josh.

He had to admit, it was fun hanging out together.

* * *

Just like they all became part of Becky’s life, they somehow became part of Finn’s too.

And he liked them…

...actually liked someone who wasn’t Becky for once.

* * *

They were around, of course, when little Ashley was born.

Even little Jackie was there with her hugs and antics

calming everyone down much more than she probably realized, too.

* * *

He cried when he held Ashley for the first time, looking at her beautiful eyes and feeling

happy.

Simply happy.

Unlike he had ever felt like before.

—when the others were allowed to see the new baby, he couldn’t hold her for much longer.

“Why can’t I hug her, too?” Jackie pouted when her turn was denied. “I likes hugs!”

And Finn laughed yet again.

* * *

Ashley Brown lived—and died—in a world where monsters were very much real.

If he could help it—

and he would

—_Ashley Finn _would live in a world where the only monster that could ever claw at her would be acne.

_And even then_, Jonathan Finn thought, _perhaps he’d find a way to avoid that for his baby girl._

Yes...

that sounded like a good plan.

Sighing, he bent down to kiss his daughter’s forehead before retreating from her nursery, ready to go back to the arms of his love,

his Becky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yeah, I thought it’d be a nice touch that Finn’s thoughts were much less messy by now, since years have passed and he’s in a good (ish?) place. I believe his brain still has lots of healing to do, but he’s much better now. Probably better than Josh and even Sam and Conrad, actually. So, yeah. He still has some odd, disjointed thoughts, but he mostly makes sense now, yay!


	15. Interlude 6–The Curator and Dr. Hill

Alan J. Hill was comfortably seated a few feet away from the celebrations taking place. He smiled, nodding to himself. He always did enjoy weddings.

Everyone seemed to be having fun while the lovebirds in the distance made their vows.

A second later, his dearest friend, the Curator, appeared by his side.

“Hello, Alan,” he said. “Would you fancy some wine?”

Dr. Hill inclined his head to the side, considering.

“No, not right now,” he said. “Have you gotten tired of playing God, my friend?”

The Curator shrugged. “Sometimes I need some fresh air. Although I believe we’re both here to see the conclusion of a long tale.”

“Oh, indeed,” Dr. Hill said with a laugh. “Have you noticed how my Joshua is doing now? Much better, I’d say.”

Between the guests of the wedding, Josh Washington was entertaining Jackie Giddings-Munroe with a loud tale that made the little girl giggle while Jessica Riley, Josh’s girlfriend, shushed them both.

“Not as much as _my _subjects, old friend,” the Curator retorted as Alex Smith slipped a ring on Julia’s finger in the distance. Conrad chose that moment to grab Fliss’ hands and plant a kiss on her lips. Meanwhile, Bradley and Junior squeezed each other’s hands discreetly. “The families are reunited now, and it seems like a happy ending is taking place.”

“Will it last, do you think?”

“Your subject seems to be doing fine so far,” the Curator said. “I’d be willing to believe the same could happen here.”

Dr. Hill nodded once more. “It seems like our subjects have meshed very well, too. Does it mean we’ll be meeting again soon, do you think?”

“That I wouldn’t doubt,” the Curator said, tipping his hat as he prepared to leave. “At all. Until then, my friend, I shall depart. There are more places to visit, more subjects to analyze.”

Before vanishing from sight, the Curator offered a small, rare smile at the group in the distance.

Alex and Julia Smith kissed at the same time everyone else got to their feet, cheering as loudly as they possibly could.

When his friend departed, Dr. Hill spared a final look at Joshua and the others surrounding him before vanishing as well.

He’d have to remember to talk to his other friends later, though, let them know how happy Becky Marney, Jonathan Finn and the little Ashley Finn were. The new parents seemed to be taking a lot of delight from dancing with Ashley when everyone started partying properly, especially as the infant gurgled happily.

For now, it seemed like there was nothing for either him or the Curator to do here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would it be reeeeeally that much of a stretch to believe that Josh’s hallucinations of Dr. Hill were actually rooted in reality? Whatever, I just wanted the two narrators of the stories to interact. ALSO YES, this is the end! I don’t know how to feel about it! I’ll miss this story so, so much. Thank you for taking the time to read my brainchild, ;*


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